


Magnus Bane's School for Young Warlocks

by Insomiak



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec is a dad, Background Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Magnus is a teacher, Malec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 106,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6637078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomiak/pseuds/Insomiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec had never dreamt he'd be a father by the age of 25, let alone the father of a Warlock.  He's sure he can handle it alone, though.  He doesn't need anyone and neither do his kids.</p><p>(Or: Alec takes Max to Warlock School and finds himself falling fast for his teacher).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warlocks Only

**Author's Note:**

> Alec has Max and Raf but doesn’t know Magnus (yet), Valentine's already been dealt with, and Warlocks can have biological children for the sake of plot.
> 
> Translations:  
> [[Pусский](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4689206/12137114#part_content)] [[Português](http://my.w.tt/UiNb/wXDRDW4f9F)]
> 
> Beta'd by [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) and [Jaimie](http://sarcasticlightwood.tumblr.com).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

 

 

 

“Max!”  Alec Lightwood shouts down the hall of the New York Institute’s living quarters.  “We’re gonna be late, let’s go!”

“Coming Dad!”  Max pokes his blue head out of his bedroom, followed soon by the rest of him.  They have ten minutes to get to the school before they’re late.  Alec will never understand how Rafael—who styles his hair and coordinates his outfits at only seven years old—manages to be ready on time but Max—who, like Alec, lets his hair do whatever and wears the same three colours everyday—is always late.  

Max runs back to his room three times before Alec manages to get him into the van. 

When Alec slides into the passenger seat, his sister grins at him.

" _Finally_ ,” Rafael huffs, “God Max.”

“You excited, Maxie?”  Isabelle asks him as she backs out of the parking spot.  “I bet you’re gonna learn all kinds of spells.  Maybe how to do my hair?”  She winks.

It sends Max into a fit of giggles, but Alec says, “Remember what we talked about, Max.  Your magic isn’t—”

“—a como’dee” - he means ‘commodity,’ a hard word for a five year old - “I got it I got it. You’ve said it like a, a _million_ times, Dad.”

Isabelle drives them through the busy streets to Brooklyn. She stops the car outside of a used book store.  It's falling apart, graffiti clouding the corrugated, brown brick.  Isabelle glamours the van—she’d never pay for parking—and the four of them step out of the car.

Rafael looks up at the crumbling building and says, “Someone needs to redecorate.”

Alec is appalled at how sassy his seven-year-old son can be, but also impressed with his lexicon and speech.  He’s way too articulate.  He must have learned it from Isabelle or Clary (or Simon), because Alec doesn’t think he’s said the word ‘redecorate’ in a full decade.

“It’s glamoured,” Isabelle says.

Alec frowns.  “I don’t like this.”

She snorts.  “Well you don’t like anything.”  Nudging Max on the back, she says, “Lead the way, Maxie.  I think only Warlocks can get in.”

The website had said something to that effect: Warlocks Only.  Not very welcoming to Shadowhunters, but then, that isn’t surprising.  Alec is probably the only Shadowhunter in the world with a Warlock for a son.  

As soon as Max opens the rickety front door, the view in front of them shifts.  The crumbling bricks turn into dark stone, the shattered windows fix and stacks of books appear behind them, Warlock spell books Alec notes, and a neatly painted sign hangs above the door: Magnus Bane’s School for Warlocks.  Not a creative name, Alec thinks, but the design is cursive and loud with colour.

The inside has a waiting area with dark velvet red couches, mahogany furniture, and low-hanging faerie lights.

Rafael absolutely beams.  “Woah.”

Alec stares across the room at hanging potion ingredients—wolfsbane, hemp, tongues, something green and dripping—and thinks it looks unsanitary, and thus unsafe for his child.

He’d been against bringing Max here.  Alec was sure he could teach him everything he needed to know about being a Warlock all on his own.  Most Warlocks never stepped foot in classes like this one, so why should he bring Max?  But Isabelle had cornered him one day when Max was four and told him he was keeping Max from learning about himself and his ancestry. Unless he wanted to give his son an identity crisis at the age of ten, he would take him to get to know another Warlock so he could get to know that part of  _himself_.  

_You have no idea, Alec, you don’t know what it’s going to be like for him—being a Warlock.  He needs someone._

Alec still thinks she’s wrong—that he can give Max everything he needs—but a part of him worried that maybe she was right. _It can't hurt to try, Alec._ He wasn't - isn't - so sure.

 _Magnus Bane comes highly recommended_ , she’d said a week later,  _He teaches a class in Brooklyn._  She’d already signed Max up and started the paperwork before Alec had agreed, though it was his signature that was needed to approve the application. His sister always pushes, feels responsible for her nephews having helped raised them a great deal, but she leaves it up to Alec in the end.

He’s heard of the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but has never met him.  Alec imagines him to be old and grouchy and greedy because he’d asked to be paid in rubies.  Who wants payment in  _rubies_?  It’s a good thing the Institute keeps any and all acquired jewels in its vaults and that Alec is the current head.  How do other people pay the man?  Do most Warlock families have troves of old jewels lying around? 

They’re not the only ones inside when they enter.  There are a few families seated in the waiting area.  They're an interesting bunch: some with brightly coloured skin, some with horns or antlers, various types of animal ears and eyes.

Yet, it is the Shadowhunters who stand out here.  All eyes are on them immediately.  An uncomfortable silence grows until a kid with curling goat horns points straight at Alec, looking up at her mothers with big, scared eyes.

“Mom!  _Shadowhunter_ ,” she says it in a whisper that is probably meant to be inaudible to Alec.  One of her moms quickly hushes her and leans down for a talk - whether it's about acceptance or merely the pretence of it is anyone's guess.

A man in a trench coat and dark blue skin puts a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and squares Alec and Isabelle with a stormy glare.  “What are you doing here, Shadowhunters?  We’re causing no trouble.  This school has been open for decades without incident.”

“No,” Alec says, shaking his head, “We’re not…”

“If you’re bored and looking for a fight, you won’t find it here.”

Alec puts both his hands on Max's shoulders.  “We're—”

“Magnus Bane prides himself on running a pure, professional, _Shadowhunter_ - _free_ institution.  You shouldn’t even have been able to get in.”

“Look…”

“Dad, what are they talking about?” Max asks, turning to look up at him.

Alec opens his mouth to reply, but another parent speaks up.  

“ _Dad_?”  A woman with white cat ears sticking out of black hair says, and widens her eyes at Alec.  “ _Excuse_ me?” 

“Dad?”  Max tugs at the sleeve of Alec’s black shirt.  “Everyone’s angry.  I can feel it.”

All of the parents in the room are frowning at Alec.  He ignores them instead and turns toward his son, his  _priority_ , and squats down.  Before he can start explaining though (and he’s told Max before, about how Downworlders and Shadowhunters don’t get along, how most Shadowhunters think they’re better than Downworlders based on blood alone—but he’s only five and those are heavy concepts) a warm, sonorous voice breaks through the tension.

“Well  _hello_ , everyone,” a man, who must be Magnus Bane, says.  “Nice to see you all getting along."

Alec stands up and turns around, expecting to see what his mind had already decided Magnus looked like.  Instead, he sees someone very different.

Cat’s eyes, glitter, hips that do all his talking for him, a fluidity to his movements, a melody to the way he holds his shoulders.  Alec’s muscles seize for a moment.  Something in him unfolds, unravels, and falls into place in some other part of him he never knew existed.  He just starts to smile when he catches himself and stops it.

“While my website does indeed say ‘Warlocks Only,’ that refers to my students, and not their parents.”  He nods at Isabelle.  As he shifts his head to do the same at Alec, his eyes widen a fraction and linger.  When he does nod, it is with a small, welcoming smile.  

Alec can't imagine what that smile is about.  Probably nothing - just Alec looking too hard into things. He's too eager, or something; there's never been a lot of time for  _that_  with two boys and running the Institute.  
  
Magnus looks at the Warlocks seated in the waiting area.  “Times are changing.  Either learn to keep up, or take your children to a different—and not nearly as talented—teacher.”

With that, the High Warlock of Brooklyn turns and snaps his fingers, popping a wide wooden arched door into existence on the far wall.

“If you’ll come with me, we can begin the orientation.”


	2. Roses

Everyone follows Magnus into what must be a classroom.  There are no chairs and desks, like Rafael would have in the Academy.  Instead the room is circular and mostly empty, built in grey stone and lined with tapestries of varying Warlock spells and diagrams he doesn't understand.  Stacked along the walls are bookshelves, work tables, and more ingredients for potions.  It looks disorganized to Alec.  He frowns.

With a wave of a ringed hand, Magnus spells a few rows of chairs into the centre of the room.  “Please,” he says, smiling graciously.

Alec, Isabelle, Max, and Rafael take a seat.  No one sits next to them.

Alec looks at his sister, his face reflecting a clear ‘ _I told you so._ ’  He should never have brought Max here.  He’s never going to be  _accepted_  here. He doesn’t want Max to grow up thinking he’s never going to be good enough because he was raised by a single parent; he doesn’t want Max to believe he’s a tool to be used and discarded when no longer exploitable; Alec doesn’t want Max to grow up hating himself because his father is a Shadowhunter who shouldn’t have adopted a Warlock in the first place.  But if the looks they’re receiving from the other parents are anything to go by, that is exactly what Max will learn here.  
  
Isabelle looks at him a little sadly.  "Just give it a chance, Alec."  
  
He folds his arms and gives her an ' _are you serious_ ' look.  "This isn't-"

“There.  Now that we’re all settled in, we can start,” Magnus says, and the room quiets.  With a smile he waves a hand across the twenty or so people seated in the chairs.  Alec feels a small weight add to the front pocket of his shirt.  “Welcome to my humble classroom,” Magnus finishes.

Looking around, Alec sees that everyone has a white rose either tucked into a shirt pocket or woven into their hair.  The kids are all smiling and holding their roses out with pride, smelling them and comparing them with each other's.  Rafael is adding his to Izzy’s hair, twining the two together and setting them above her left ear.

Looking down at his own shirt, Alec sees that he’s got one too.

His is red.

“As I said before,” Magnus continues, “ _Everyone_  is welcome here.”  

Alec is staring at Magnus and is stuck stock still because Magnus is staring at Max with this heavy, meaningful gaze that most adults never bother giving children.  Most people assume that a five-year-old wouldn’t understand.  But Alec knows from experience that kids pick up on everything—and when Max sinks lower into his seat and smiles shyly at his new teacher, Alec knows he _does_ understand.

When Alec manages to look away, Isabelle is grinning at him.  She drops her eyes to the rose.  
  
Alec ignores her.

“First, some simple demonstrations to prove to you all that your lovelies are in capable hands.”

Magnus shuts the doors behind them by seemingly pulling at the air, then ignites the faerie-lights of the chandelier over their heads with a flicking wrist. Despite his gravitas, Alec wonders if Magnus doesn’t want to be performing like this.  If he’s doing it because it’s part of his job.  He wonders if Warlock parents are just as stingy and invasive and controlling as the Shadowhunter parents Alec sees at the Academy when he goes in for parent-teacher with Raf.  Because somehow Alec doubts Magnus has any problem showing off, given his embroidered silver silk shirt and jewel-studded earrings.  It must be the audience he’s less than keen on.

He sketches a few warlock runes into the air, conjures a full flock of pixies (which tangle in behind Max’s ears and make him giggle) before sending them away with a kind thank you, and with a snap of his fingers he changes the colour of everyone’s skin in the room.

Alec looks down at his blue hands, surprised, then looks over at Max.  He raises a thick eyebrow quizzically at his now peach-coloured son.  Max dissolves into laughter. 

“Oh my god,” Rafael says, looking at his father in horror.  

Grinning, Isabelle holds out one of Rafael’s arms for him to see, “Take a look at yourself, mijo.”

Brown eyes widen to the size of two very scandalized moons as Raf stares down at his bright yellow arms.  “ _Oh my god_.”  He looks over at Magnus.  “You’re crazy!”

“ _Rafael_.”  Alec frowns at him.  

“What!”  He gestures wildly at his father.  “Dad, you’re _blue_!”

“Don’t call people crazy.”  Then, unable to help but try to get a rise out of his drama-queen of a son, Alec says, “It’s more like a turquoise, anyway.”

It works.  Rafael groans in a distinct ‘why is my father like this’ way.  “That isn’t the _point_ , Dad.”

After a few minutes, Magnus has everyone back to their real colours and the room calms down.

He walks them through the outline of the curriculum, rules and practices, and how to get in contact with him if they need anything or have any questions.  The lessons run from eight-thirty to two-thirty, five days a week.  There are a few books Alec needs to buy: they’re basic spell books and won’t be expensive or anything, but he doesn’t know where to buy Warlock school books.  

Magnus makes a point of mentioning that he only accepts ten students at a time, so they’re all very lucky and blessed to be in his presence.  

Well, those may not be the  _exact_  words he’d used.  

“Thank you all for your time and attention,” he says as the meeting draws to a close.  He actually bends over to give them a low bow.  As he does so, the doors behind them open slowly and the glowing lights flicker out, natural sunlight filling the room once again. “I look forward to teaching your children.”

"He’s very dazzling," Isabelle says.

Alec will give him that much.  Even Rafael looks impressed.

 

* * *

 

Max doesn’t stop talking about magic and school for the rest of the day.  The whole drive home, all through the late afternoon, and until the second Alec is tucking him into bed, Max keeps chirping on and on.

“Do you think I’ll be able- able to…” He yawns heavily, a high-pitched sigh at the end, as Alec pulls the covers up to his chin,  “-to make portals someday?  What about potions?  What colour do you think my magic is?  You think, do you think that there is…” He trails off into another yawn,  “That, that…”  Max’s blue eyelids start to drop.

Alec smiles as he sits down on the bed.  “Go to sleep, Max.  You’ll find out on Monday.”

“Mm.”  He sniffs and rolls onto his side, clutching a stuffed-animal cat to his chest.  Clary had got it for him when he was a baby.  Alec had been upset at first—his mother had never let them have toys—but he didn’t want to raise Raf and Max the way Maryse and Robert had raised himself, Izzy, Jace, and Max.  He wants to be a father before he’s anything else.  “Night, Dad.”

When Alec pokes his head into Rafael’s room, his older son is sitting on his bed, face covered in green slime.  Isabelle is there too.  She smiles at him.

“Really, Izzy?”

She just shrugs and grins wider.  “He asked me to.”

“I’m  _exfoliating_ ,” Rafael says, as if he’s doing an angel’s blessed work.  Again Alec is impressed with his vocabulary yet anxious about the amount of attitude his son possesses.  Maybe it’s from Jace?  Rafael spends a lot of time training with his uncle.  Alec will have to talk with him, and Raf, tomorrow.  

“Ten minutes,” Alec says, walking into the room.  He presses a warm kiss into Rafael’s hair, the scent of cucumber and chemicals filling his nostrils.  “You promised Clary you’d help with wedding plans tomorrow morning, remember?”

Isabelle beams.  “And I wouldn’t want _anyone_  else helping to plan my wedding.”  
  
"Yeah, okay," he says like he's not proud at all, but Alec knows his son and knows he's preening.

After making sure Rafael is in bed, Alec goes to his room to finally change and get himself ready to sleep.  It had been a long day, an even longer week, between all the shopping needed to get Max ready for these lessons, to Isabelle's wedding and making sure Rafael was ready to start another term at the Academy.  Not to mention everything at the Institute that needs his attention, namely the Seelie Court.  If Alec didn't have Izzy, Clary, Jace, and Simon helping out with the boys, he doesn't know what he'd do.

He sighs, tired but happy, as he enters his bathroom.  When Alec looks into the mirror, he sees the red rose still tucked into his shirt.

He should just throw it out.  It will wilt in a few days anyway.  It was probably just an accident, giving Alec a red one when everyone else had white.  Even High Warlocks make mistakes on simple spells, he’s almost sure.  And even if it wasn’t an accident, that didn’t mean it meant anything.  

He doesn’t want it to mean anything.  He isn't in a position for it to mean anything.  He's a twenty-five year old single parent trying to raise a Shadowhunter and a Warlock in a world that thinks they ought to hate each other, he's the head of an international Institution, Magnus is about to be his son's _teacher_.  
  
Alec slides the stem of the rose between the mirror and the wall anyway.


	3. Firenote

When Alec drops Max off at the school Monday morning, it is the hardest thing he’s ever done.  He’s fought demons his whole life, he’d gone up against Valentine, he’d rescued his sister from a brood of succubi and gone head-to-head with their queen—but all of that is nothing compared to bringing Max to school and realizing he’s going to have to leave him alone there. All day.

Rafael had been no problem.  He’d practically ran away from Alec on his first day at the Academy.  But Max has been through so much, things no kid should ever have to deal with, and Alec can’t help but want to protect him from the world.  Especially _their_ world.

He walks Max all the way inside the mock used book store, frowning again at the glamour he can’t see through and the door he can’t open. 

As they step into the entry hall Alec looks into the circular classroom, through the open wooden doors.  Most of the kids are in there, talking to each other and running around, laughing furiously at some joke comprehensive only to children.

 _They already know each other_ , he realizes with a racing terror. Their parents all know each other.  Their kids have grown up together, submerged in Warlock culture from the get-go and here Alec is, a Shadowhunter who’s never even had half a conversation with a Warlock, bringing Max into this world unprepared and hoping his glass heart doesn’t get stomped on.  Right.

 _A+ parenting_.

“Dad I’m gonna be right, be right back!” Max says, hurrying off at the insistence of another student.  Alec watches him go, silent.

He’d stolen Max from his people and _neglected_ him.  He’s set him up for failure, and Alec hadn’t even noticed.  How is he going to fit in?  Make friends?  He’s going to have the worst first day possible all because his idiot of a father couldn’t figure out that keeping him safe at the Institute was not a realistic long-term plan, that it meant keeping him from his  _people_.  And keeping him from his people meant making him an outcast.  Now he’s right here, about to face the world that will hate him simply for who he is and where he’d come from, and he doesn’t—

“Ah, the infamous Shadowhunter,” says a voice that sends the hairs on his neck taut.  Alec looks at Magnus Bane and hopes the fear blossoming in his chest isn’t showing on his face.  “You’ll have to excuse me, most of the Shadowhunters I know are boorish and ugly.  I didn’t know they came like  _you_.”

“Like me?” Alec moves his eyes up and down his grinning face and then decides the bookshelf to the left is safer. 

“It’s not everyday a Shadowhunter welcomes a Downworlder into their life.  Your sense of adventure must be extensive.” Alec is about to say Max is  _not_  an ‘adventure,’ he’s Alec’s son. But the Warlock speaks again.  “Trying to raise a Warlock is just  _asking_  for life to be interesting.”

“Um.” Alec isn’t sure whether he’s insulted or not, and wonders if that’s a commonplace reaction where this man is concerned.

Taking a step closer that involves a swing to his shoulders, the High Warlock says, “A formal introduction is pertinent, I think.  And we never had the chance to chat before.” He holds a hand out. “I’m Magnus Bane,” he says.

“Uh.”  Fumbling, Alec grips his hand and shakes it.  It’s soft, delicate but sure of its hold.  “Alec—Alec Lightwood.  Nice to meet you, Mister Bane.”

“Oh absolutely not,” he says with a small laugh, “You cannot call me what the kids call me.  ‘Magnus,’ please.”

“Dad!”  Max’s voice carries from the classroom out to the entryway.  Magnus turns to look with him.  Max’s blue limbs flail as he scurries towards his father.  “Did- Did you-” He grips at the bottom of Alec’s shirt, tugging.  Alec drops to a squat to be at eye-level.  “Did you bring my books?  I forgot!”

It was Simon, ironically, who'd known where to buy Warlock spell books.  He'd made a joke about it at first, some reference to some novel series about wizards Alec has never heard of and thus hadn't understood.  Clary had laughed and high-fived her best friend. Even as a Vampire and a Shadowhunter, those two could still be seriously mundane sometimes.

“Max.”  Alec levels his eyes at his son.  “You ran back to your room five times this morning.”

“I know!  But for, that was to check on the faerie dust and my noct- noch- noktus…”

“Noxious Vine,” Alec offers.

Max nods solemnly.  “He’s been feelin’ a little saggy, Dad.”

Alec sighs.  “You can’t forget your books.  They’re your responsibility, remember?”  They’d had a long chat about Max ‘getting older’ and being able to do more himself, without his dad doing everything for him.  He is only five, but every parenting book Alec had read had something to say about teaching responsibility and self-efficacy sooner rather than later. 

“I know I’m sorry I’m  _sorry_.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alec says, pulling Max in to kiss him on the forehead, “You’re the one without books.”

“Am I gonna _fail_?”  He turns wide-eyes up towards Magnus.

Magnus kneels down too.  Not many people outside of their family bother to get at eye-level and instead choose to talk  _down_ at his kids.  Alec doesn't let himself think about it. 

“Fail at magic?”  He laughs once and with great emphasis.  “No Warlock fails at magic.  Especially not blue ones.”

Max beams. 

“Okay,” Alec says, sighing, but it’s at least fifty-percent fond. “Go back inside and get ready.  And listen to your teacher.  If anyone pushes you, don’t push them back.  Use your words.  And pay attention.”

“Uh huh,” Max says, having heard the same at the Institute and in the van.

“I’ll be back here at two-thirty.  If you need anything you have Izzy’s number.”

“Where are you gon’be again?”

“With the Seelies.”

“Can you get me more faerie flower seeds?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks Dad!”  He crushes Alec in a quick, tight hug before running off with a wave.

Alec stands up and watches him go, heart leaving with him.

“Hey,” Magnus says, having stood up as well. Alec jumps a little -- he’d forgot Magnus was there. “Relax.  He’s going to be fine.”  He smiles, but it is not in any way a safe, kind smile.  “We don’t start summoning demons until next week.”

The alarmed look Alec gives him must be hilarious, because Magnus actually laughs in his face.

“Kidding!  Kidding.” 

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Well it was for _me_ ,” Magnus says.  He’s smiling again, and now it is safe and kind, but this time it’s all at Alec and he looks away, staring over Magnus’s shoulder at the exit.

“Should I bring his books in?”

Magnus folds his arms and leans toward Alec, only slightly.  Alec can’t help dropping his gaze back onto him.  The grin on his lips is not like the one before, this one is calculated, vibrant, sly.  Just how many different ways can this man smile?  “Though it would be lovely to see you again today, it is not necessary.”  He makes a show of sighing.  “How unfortunate.” 

Alec opens his mouth, trying to form words that won’t come.

Isn’t there some rule against flirting with parents? 

Maybe Magnus is a flirty person.  He probably treats everyone like this.  Alec is just looking too much into it.

“He _will_ be fine, Mr. Lightwood,” Magnus says, mistaking his drawn-out silence for concern. 

“Alec,” he corrects. 

With a final wave to Max, Alec leaves the school for the Seelie Court.

 

* * *

  

Max comes home every day that week practically lit with joy, prattling on and on (and on) about his classmates, potions they’ve made, spells they’re learning, future project ideas, a  _play_  they’re apparently going to put on around Christmas, and everything and anything about his teacher: how cool he is, how he knows  _so many spells_ _you wouldn’t believe it, Dad_ , how he always makes them figure things out on their own, how that’s sort of hard but  _Mister Bane says it’s important, like_ _really_ _important,_ _because Warlocks need to be able to think broadly, Dad, broadly!_  Alec hasn’t seen Max this excited about something since he learned that pies came in different flavours, and not just the apple ones his grandfather makes. 

It’s hard to believe the change he can see in his son.  A year ago anything could set him off, send him into another breakdown.  And now, after a week of school, Max is more than just happy — he’s _growing_. 

So when Alec is lying in bed reading late Friday night, he’s absolutely blindsided  by the firenote from Magnus Bane that burns into existence beside him.

_Mister Alec Lightwood,_

(Alec really hopes Magnus drops the ‘Mister’ because it sounds all kinds of wrong.)

_Sorry to interrupt your doubtless extravagant evening with work.  I would like to, if at all possible, meet with you this Monday night concerning Max.  He was crying alone in the waiting room today.  It was the second time during his first week here.  Normally I would assume it nothing more than nerves from being away from home all day—many new students cry—but I feel with Max it may be something more._

_If you are free, please come by the school.  Around seven?_

_—M._

His writing is wild and winding and normally Alec would stare at it except something is wrong with Max.  Something his teacher thinks is bad enough to have a meeting about.  To send a formal letter on a Friday night about.

He’s emotionally unstable, he’s got security issues, he’s never going to be a balanced, healthy adult, Alec has ruined his chances at a good life, he’s damaged him permanently, he would’ve done better with his _biological Warlock mother_.  He’s a monster for taking him away from her. 

Magnus’s letter doesn’t say that, but Alec knows that’s what he means. 

Alec remains in Panic Mode until Monday evening.  Panic Mode is something he’d learned from being a Shadowhunter, and may not be the best tactic as a father.  Everything makes him jump.  Max coughs, Alec’s heart leaps to the ceiling.  Max looks tired, Alec worries his son will be suicidal in six years.  Max doesn’t do anything for five minutes straight, Alec assumes he’s depressed.

“It’s probably nothing, Alec,” Izzy says through the phone pressed to his ear, “If it was what I know you  _think_  it is—and it isn’t—but if it was, his teacher wouldn’t have waited the whole weekend.”

Alec runs a hand through his hair, waiting outside the school.  The glamour is gone (for him anyway; he assumes mundanes still can’t see through it) but he’s too freaked out to go inside.

“What if…”

“It’s. Not. Happening.” Izzy snaps, “Drop it and go have your meeting.  Try to enjoy it.”

“ _Enjoy_ it?”

He can practically see her grin.  “Max’s teacher seems to like you, according to Max.  He’s cute, Alec.”

“Magnus is—”

“Oh? ‘Magnus’?”

Alec groans and hangs up on his sister.  Now is not the time for _that_.  He heads into the building, anxiety at its peak.

“Ah, you’re here,” Magnus says when Alec steps inside.  He’s seated at the desk, paperwork all around him, and tea sitting hot beside it. He stands to meet him and puts a hand on his shoulder to lead him towards the waiting area, but Alec is hardly aware of the action.

They sit on the dark red couches.  Magnus offhandedly says he doesn’t have an office.  Alec just stares at him, heart about to burst.

This is it, this is the truth, the end.  Magnus is going look at him with judgment and great pity and say ‘Mister Lightwood, I’m sorry, but your son is an emotional wreck.  I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but you’ve entirely fucked up.’ Never mind that Alec can’t picture Magnus saying something like ‘entirely fucked up.’  It’s the gist of the situation. 

He’s going to lose Max. 

“I asked you here today—”

“Look I,” he cuts Magnus off, voice shaking, “I know what it looks like.  Max would be better off with someone else.  What do I know about raising a Warlock?” 

Alec rubs his eyes to keep himself together.  It had been so hard, fighting to keep Max, so many sleepless nights impregnated by a fear Alec had been sure he would drown in.  Court cases, lawyers, a game he didn’t know how to win.  A game he still isn’t winning, not really.  Four long years of it all.

“But I couldn’t…”  He runs a hand through his hair, mind falling further into a memory, “I couldn’t leave him, where he was before.”

Magnus’s eyes go wide.  He snaps his fingers abruptly and a mug of tea appears in his grip.  He slides it directly into Alec’s hand.

“I suppose I should have been more descriptive in my letter.  I apologize.”

Alec’s stomach sinks down into his bowels. He’ll call the lawyer, as soon as he’s back at the Institute.  No, he’ll call Izzy to call the lawyer as soon as he’s done here.  He’ll—

“I have been teaching basic elemental spells all week.” Magnus performs each as he lists them, “Making a flame, freezing water, creating water from the air, things like that.  Max has been having a hard time with it, and as I told you, I found him crying alone out here.”  He frowns.  “I asked you to meet with me to discuss his magic,” he says.  “Have you worked on anything with him?”

Alec shakes his head, feeling sick.  Could they take Max away for that?  Site it as child neglect?

“Most Warlocks can produce basic spells by the time they’re five. Max cannot.  His magic is locked, for lack of a better word.  The longer he stays dormant, the more likely it is he’ll never be able to awaken it.  And a Warlock without his magic is miserable.”

Alec’s heart falls somehow further. He knew he should’ve worked on it when Max was younger, found someone who could help him or at least read him a book.  But there had been custody battle after custody battle and Alec didn’t always have Max, and Max had been  _afraid_  of magic thanks to his mother, and Alec had no idea what to teach him and what not to teach him, what was safe for a toddler to learn and what wasn’t.  

He  _still_  doesn’t. 

“Max also doesn’t seem to know anything about our history.  He doesn’t understand what being a Warlock means.  Have you told him he’s immortal?”

Alec feels the question like a punch to the gut.

He shakes his head.  How do you tell your child he’s going to have to watch everyone he knows age and die while he stays young forever?

"I see."

Alec looks at Magnus. He wants to tell him that when Max was younger, things went so far into hell that teaching him magic and about his people hadn’t been a priority. Wants to tell him that he didn’t mean to mess up this badly, ruin his own child, that he knows it’s not enough but he’s doing his best, that he doesn’t want to admit he can’t do this for Max.  Alec doesn’t know how to put it all into words.  He sags, sitting back in his chair. 

“Don’t look like  _that_ ,” Magnus says, smiling almost playfully at him. 

“Are you going to report me?”

His smile drops.  “What?”

“For not teaching him any magic.  For… For ruining him.”

Magnus regards Alec as if he’d just sprouted about six more heads.  “No.  Mr. Lightwood…”

“Alec.”

“Alec.”  Magnus leans over.  His voice is slow and gentle and careful.  “No.  That is not at all what this is about.”

Alec ignores his heart because it’s trying to sink and soar at the same time, unable to process anything correctly with those cat eyes and that voice, what it is saying and his darker skin and a jawline that suggests he gives gracious kisses.

He’s supposed to be worrying about his  _son_.

“Then what…?”

Magnus sits back in his chair.  “I was thinking, if it’s alright with you, I could set up some tutoring sessions for Max at the Institute.”

Alec can only stare and hope his mouth closes on its own.  “What?”

“I would offer to do them here, but I think Max will do better somewhere he’s familiar with.  Unlocking magic has a lot to do with your emotions - it requires balance.”

Alec continues to stare with all the elegance and depth of a dead fish.  “You. You’d do that?”

“Of course.”  Magnus looks at him like it should be obvious. 

“I- I can-” He stutters, throat caught, “We’ll pay you.”

Magnus waves a hand dismissively.  “We can figure all that out later.  Which days during the week are you both free?”

They work out three evenings during the week and Saturdays, Alec in an absolute daze the whole time; and before he knows it, Magnus is showing him to the door.

“Oh, wait one moment,” he says and disappears into the circular classroom.  When he returns, it’s with a stack of books.  He piles them into Alec’s arms with an enthusiasm Alec badly wants to attach the word ‘cute’ to.  “Read a few of these to him before he goes to sleep.  Warlock children know these stories by heart, and the spells are nearly as familiar.”

Alec squeezes the books to his chest.  The press of the door on his back is strangely comforting.  “ _Thank you,_ ” he says, meaning every single syllable even if there are only two. 

“It’s my pleasure.”

Just as he turns to go, Magnus speaks again.

“Alec.” 

Alec turns back around. 

“Max is a _wonderful_ little boy.  He’s kind, attentive, patient.”  He folds his arms and dips his head, looking up at Alec through long lashes. “Anyone could see he comes from a loving home.”

Relief hits him harder than anything else had that night. Alec loses a breath of air.   _Anyone could see he comes from a loving home_.  No one has ever said so before, and it means something quite different coming from someone like Magnus.

“Thanks.  I…”  Alec closes his eyes, trying to fight off a nervous smile as the relief sinks fully over him.  “Thank you.” 

When he gets home, he finds another red rose pressed into one of the books.  It falls into his lap while he's reading to Max.  

"What's that?"  Max asks.  Alec doesn't have an answer for him, doesn't know what it is.  
  
He slides it behind the mirror with the first.


	4. Blueberry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the nice comments!

“You think we should have faerie lights?”  Clary asks her nephew, thinking out loud.  They’re standing in a meadow, just outside of a faerie circle, one that is more or less friendly with Shadowhunters after Valentine’s defeat.  Izzy had wanted to be married in Downworlder territory as a sign of peace and acceptance—Clary thinks it’s a great idea.  Downworlder and Shadowhunter unification has been on her to-do list since she learned about this world as a teenager.  It’s twenty-sixteen, move on, who even has  _time_  to care about race—or species, whatever—when there are murderous demons running around? She’d more than happily agreed.  In fact, she hopes they can send invites to the Fairfolk,  _and_ the Vampires,  _and_  Luke’s pack.

It might give Izzy’s Mother an aneurism, but other than that, Clary thinks it will be awesome.

Rafael nods at her prior question, studying the empty field.  “Along the aisle, in the grass. And in the trees.” 

The redhead thinks about it for a moment.  Thinks of Isabelle in glowing gold, her black hair lit in the faint blue light under her feet.

“Sounds good to me,” she says.  “Any idea where to get some?”

Her nephew folds his arms.  “Maybe,” he replies, acting cool.  Clary wonders where and how he might have learned that sort of information; she’d only been asking rhetorically.  “Did your dress come in yet?”

“Well…”  
  
He regards her with an expression Clary would expect to see on an cantankerous old lady, not a seven-year-old.

She laughs.  “Raf, relax, okay?  I love that you’re helping me, but try and remember to be a kid.”  She puts a hand on his shoulder and tugs him against her hip.  “We’ll work everything out.”

He lifts his eyes up at her again, a great deal of distress on his tiny face.  “Aunt Clary, did you even  _order_ the dress yet?” 

She bites her bottom lip, looking down at him with a guilty grin.  “No.”

Raf sighs.  Like his expression, it is much too heavy for a child’s.  “You would be so lost without me,” he says, shaking his head. 

“I know.”  She scratches the hair above his ear.  “You want to get in a round of training before I take you to school?”

He looks up at her, surprised.  “Really?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Clary pulls out her seraph blade and runs Rafael through a few drills.  She loves training with him (is not-so-secretly doing so because no one had trained her as a child and she not-so-secretly wishes she’d had that sort of bond with her mother) but doesn’t want to teach him anything too dangerous, for fear of his helicopter of a father’s wrath coming down on her.

She gets it—why Alec is so protective.  Unlike her, he’d come from a violent past, had been raised to fight a war and had fought it.  She knows Alec blames himself for the deaths of Raf’s biological parents, whether he says so or not.  He’d been there the night they’d died.  And Max is a whole other story, with his sociopathic mother and the Clave’s absolutely ludicrous laws, it’s social workers and inane foster care system.  So she gets why Alec is more cautious than most parents, gets that he has more to deal with than the average father.

Still, Clary is glad Rafael is able to spend his afternoons at the Academy, and that Max gets to spend part of his day without his father around.  She’s no expert, but it meant a lot to her growing up that her Mom trusted her enough to let her go off on her own.  Not that Alec should let Max and Raf gallivant around the city like a couple teenagers just yet—but letting them go to school outside the Institute is a good start.

“You’re getting pretty good,” Clary says, stopping and laying her blade by her side.  

Rafael grins, wiping sweat from his forehead.   
  


* * *

    
Isabelle had laughed roaringly the first time Alec had gone through a drive-through to get coffee.  ‘I never thought, in all our years together big brother, that I’d ever see the day…’ 'What would mom and dad say? Their Shadowhunter son going to a mundane drive-through...' She’d looked at him and broken into laughter again, head falling forward in a fit of giggles.  Alec had just rolled his eyes.  What did she expect?  Rafael had been barely two at the time and he’d been waking up every three hours at night for  _weeks_ —Alec needed a damn coffee.  Being a father had changed him in about a million ways; his new habit of going through the drive-through was the least of them. 

It had only gotten worse, anyway, when Max had started staying with them on and off.  Alec had first taken Max home when he was barely seven weeks old, and Raf was only three.  Having two kids under five to look after was an impossible task only made feasible by caffeine.

His sister eventually learned to get over it.  Alec doesn’t do it often anymore, but now that he’s driving Max to school every morning, the old habit has returned.    

“Dad.” Max chirps from his car seat in the back.  “Dad.  Can we— We should get Mister Bane something!”  He says it as if it's the most important thing he's ever thought of in all his five years of life.

Alec looks at his son through the rear view mirror.  He thinks of the roses, and doesn’t want to get Magnus anything.  He looks at Max’s dark eyes alight with hope and the honest desire to go out of his way and do something kind for someone he’s clearly starting to look up to - and realizes he can’t  _not_ agree.  

As long as Max is the one who gives it to him, it won’t seem like Alec is suggesting anything. 

“Do you know what he likes?”  Alec asks, driving up to the window.

Max smiles, and it looks strikingly like one he’d expect to see on Raf.  “I have an idea.”

 

* * *

  

Of course, as soon as they arrive at the school, Max spots some friends he’s apparently made and darts off, leaving Alec standing there with two drinks grasped desperately in his hands.  Magnus greets Max as he runs by.  Max stops and points back at Alec, talking.  And then Magnus is making a direct line for Alec, smiling with a shyness bordering on fake and landing somewhere, easily, between coy and evocative.  His shirt covers all the way up to his neck, but the implication of a warm chest beneath it is evident. Alec breathes slowly as to not grip the cups in his hands too tight and spill hot coffee and tea all over himself. 

“Good morning, Alec,” Magnus says.  And the tune of his name in Magnus’s mouth is lilting, bending, the single sound somehow above the ‘good’ and ‘morning.’  Alec feels it all the way down to his toes.

“Hi.”  He clears his throat and looks at his hands — to  Magnus’s feet — then at the wall — then, feeling altogether stupid, Alec looks at the dark eyes in front of him.  He swallows.  “Max wanted…”

Magnus seems to be following Alec’s every move, his eyes dancing.  “Yes, he mentioned something about a mystery-flavoured tea,” he says, reaching out for the cup Alec is holding towards him.  His fingers land over Alec’s and brush along them as he takes the tea.

Magnus smirks at him while he does.

Is he serious?  It’s all so obviously  _intentional_  Alec almost rolls his eyes and laughs—would probably do it, if they were… If things were different.  If Magnus wasn’t who he was and Alec was someone else. If harmless, light flirting could be only that — harmless and light. 

But it can’t be.  Alec’s choices affect other people, and they always have, even before Max and Raf.  So he pretends not to notice as Magnus’s soft hands glide along his own, and forces his face into calm indifference.

“Will I see you tonight?”  Magnus asks.

Up this close, Alec can smell him.  It’s making him a little lightheaded.

“Huh?” 

Magnus smiles as if Alec had done something incredibly charming - Alec can’t think of what - and says, “For Max’s first lesson.”

“Oh.”

Magnus smells like a warm room at night lit by candles and two glasses of red wine poured; he smells like a slow Sunday morning, lazy light through an open window; he smells like he’d fit perfectly into the empty space on the other side of Alec’s bed.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Alec pulls himself out of wherever his brain thinks it’s sinking into. 

“Yeah.  I-  I promised Max I’d watch for awhile,” he says, “I guess I should’ve asked you if it’s alright first.”  Alec scratches the back of his neck.  But it makes him feel like an awkward teenager, so he drops his arm and squares his shoulders, holding his head high to look down at Magnus.  “Is it?  Or will it mess him up if I’m there?” 

It doesn’t make a difference.  Magnus might be shorter than Alec, but he has a height to his personality.  To his eyes.  To the way he looks up at Alec like he likes what he sees. 

“We’ll be doing theory,” Magnus says, shoulders swinging and giving the impression of him getting closer, though his feet are standing still.  “I imagine he’ll be delighted to have you there.” 

“If you say so.”  
  
“I do.”  Magnus takes the first sip of his tea.  He grins, looking down at it.  Alec notes the glitter covering his eyelids.  “Blueberry.  Your son certainly has a sense of humour.”

“Right,” Alec says, the urge to flee overtaking him.  “Well… I’d better—” He turns to look back at the door.

Magnus nods.  “Thank you, for the tea.”

“Sure. I mean it was Max’s idea, you know, but it’s, I, it, it’s—” Alec closes his eyes and deflates, finishing lamely, “You’re welcome.”  He turns to leave and hears Magnus laughing as he goes. 

It's not rude laughter but still.  If every morning is this embarrassing, Alec is going to have a heart attack before he’s thirty.


	5. Safe

The evening rolls around soon enough. The Seelie Court had been as eventful as ever: Alec is trying to convince the Queen to sign the peace agreement he'd help create after Valentine’s defeat. It’s different from the Accords. Izzy, Raphael, Luke, and Lydia had written it themselves. It speaks of cooperation in protecting humanity, in providing resources where needed to any party in the Shadow World. The Seelie Queen doesn’t seem to trust it. She always refuses, but asks Alec to come back again, as if she wants something else entirely from him.

Alec sighs when he steps through the portal and into the Institute. His head is aching from whatever smoke flows from the candles the Court always has burning. He runs a hand over his face and heads for his room, in need of a hot shower and a change of clothes.

Izzy is getting Max from school, and Raf is old enough to take a portal alone, as long as his teachers set one up for him. This gives Alec about fifty minutes before his kids come home.

Fifty whole minutes.

Maybe sending Max to Warlock School isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Alec realizes that he has just long enough for a bath, and is sinking down in the hot water and groaning within minutes.

About an hour later, right on cue, a little fist knocks at the bathroom door. “Dad?” Max calls. “Are you comin’ out soon?” He sings the question, for reasons only known to himself.

It stumbles Alec out of a half-slumber. He sits up, splashing water onto the floor. “Hey Max,” he says, “Yeah I’m coming.” Alec steps out and wraps a towel around his waist, unlocking the door to let his son in.

Max opens it and scurries over, standing next to Alec. He’s too short to see himself in the mirror, so Alec lifts him up and sets him on the counter. “You gonna shave?”

Alec looks at his reflection. “Do you think I should?”

“Mister Bane is here.”

And that was either a complete divergence in conversation, or his five-year-old is suggesting Alec make himself look nice for his teacher. Alec merely raises an eyebrow and says nothing. Instead he pulls on a shirt.

“Maybe he likes scruff though.”

“Dad!” Rafael’s deeper voice bounds down the living quarters of the Institute. His footsteps come next, carrying him into the bathroom.

“Raf!” Max shouts, reaching his arms out to request a hug from where he’s sitting on the counter. Rolling his eyes, Rafael gives his brother a tight squeeze, just tall enough to reach the very top of the counter. “Raf do you think Mister Bane likes-” apparently forgetting the word, Max rubs at his chin, “This stuff.”

“How would I know?”

“You know bout—stuff. Like clothes.”

“Facial hair isn’t clothes, Max.” Releasing his brother, Raf turns to Alec, “Dad, don’t forget you promised—”

“Alec?” Jace’s voice drifts into his bathroom next. Growing up, Jace, Izzy, Max (their little brother), and himself had always had separate bathrooms; getting used to never having any privacy had taken Alec awhile. Now, however, four people cramped in his bathroom is nothing new.

He’s sort of grown to like it, if he’s being honest.

“Hey Jace.”

“Uncle Jace!” Raf and Max both shout. Raf lifts Max off the counter so they can both run and hug their uncle. “You’re back early!”

“Yeah well, dealing with the Vampires is a lot easier now.” He looks at Alec with a not-so-subtle smirk. “Alec. There’s a very powerful and sarcastic High Warlock waiting for you downstairs. Care to share?”

“Magnus,” Alec says, as if that explains anything, “Max’s teacher.”

“Mister Bane is awesome, Jace!”

“I’ll bet,” Jace says, still looking at Alec. His eyes drop to the razor blade on the counter. “Don’t,” he says, looking at Alec’s scruffy chin.

Alec flicks his eyes away. “Don’t what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“How’s Simon?” Alec asks, putting the razor away.

Jace snorts. “Nice try. Simon’s fine, and you are going to talk to me about this.”

“About what.”

Jace merely looks at him, but Alec can read his expression: ‘You know what.’ And then Jace’s gaze wanders to the mirror, where Alec has the two roses tucked in behind it. He raises a blond eyebrow.

Alec turns fully, leans against the counter, and folds his arms. “It’s nothing.”

“What?” Max asks. When no one pays him any attention, he looks at Rafael and says, “Raf, what’s Jace and Dad saying?”

But Rafael doesn’t respond. He keeps his attention fully on his father and uncle.

“That,” Jace says, nodding towards the roses peeking out from the mirror over Alec’s shoulder, “doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Well it is.” Turning his back to his brother, Alec picks the razor out of the cupboard and decides that he’ll shave after all because it  _is_  nothing. There’s no one to impress.

“Alec—”

“I barely know him, okay? And we’re not doing this,” he says, “Not right now.”

“Oh please,” Jace says, scoffing, “They’re fine.” He looks at his nephews, “Raf, Max, your dad—”

“Drop it.”

“—see, normally he’d want a mom for you but—”

“Jace!”

Jace rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_ , your highness, King of the Institute, I’ll drop it. But we are going to talk.” He turns to look at Max. “You mind if I sit in on your first lesson? I wanna see my little bud in action.”

Max giggles. “Okay! Dad, Raf, you’re comin’ too, right?”

“You two go with Jace,” Alec says, shaking the can of shaving cream, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

When Jace makes a comment about Alec needing to ‘make himself look pretty for the dark and mysterious man in their basement’ Alec shucks shaving cream at the back of his blond head.

 

* * *

 

“Well we certainly have an audience,” Alec hears Magnus whisper to Max when he enters the room. They’re sitting cross-legged in the center of a large storage room. Alec had offered the Institute’s entire training facility, anywhere Magnus liked, but Magnus had said somewhere dark and cool was the best place to learn magic. That left the subbasement.

At least no one would come looking down here. Alec has yet to tell his parents he’s letting a Downworlder into the Institute on the regular.

“I asked them to come,” Max says, “Is it okay?”

“You can invite whoever you want,” Magnus says, “As long as you’re comfortable and you can concentrate.”

Jace grins at him as Alec takes a seat at the table in a rickety plastic chair. “Hey, Max really likes this guy.”

Alec ignores him.

“Ready?”

Max bites his lower lip, looking from his teacher to Alec and then back and forth again. “Dad,” he whispers, making a ‘come here’ motion with his blue hand. Perking his head up, Alec stands and walks over to his younger son. He kneels down so Max can whisper in his ear.

When Max pulls away, Alec sighs, but smiles down at Max. He drops to his bottom and crosses his legs; Jace chuckles from the table he and Raf are sat at, but Alec doesn’t care. If this is what Max needs to unlock his magic, then Alec will do it. It’s not the first time he’s sat on the floor like this anyway.

“Okay?” He says, nudging Max on the shoulder.

Max nods with enthusiasm. “Uh huh!” He turns away from Alec and looks at Magnus. The bright, courageous look that overtakes Max is something Alec’s never seen before. The hint of a confidence Max has never had. “Ready,” he says.

Magnus smiles at them both. “The first step to unlocking your magic is finding your center.” He sets a hand over his heart, pressing into the silk of his azure shirt. “Think of a place you feel safe, a memory, or of someone you love. Anything that balances you.”

Max scrunches his face up. “I don’t get it.”

“For example,” Magnus says, “I think of my dear friend Ragnor, or Catarina, or my cats.”

“Your cats?”

Magnus nods. “Of course. There is no safer feeling than being curled up home with one’s feline companions.” He holds out a hand and a small, holographic image of two cats—one lithe and happy, the other chubby and grumpy—appears over his palm. “They hear everything before my magic can sense it. The best alarm system any Warlock could ask for.”

Max looks at the hologram, at Alec, at Magnus, and then at his lap. “I don’t know what makes me feel safe,” he says, brow folded in confounded frustration.

Alec’s chest seizes in a reaction reserved for watching Max unable to understand his own emotions; Max knows he doesn’t feel at ease here at the Institute but doesn’t know why. He doesn’t understand ‘safety.’ The first four years of his life negated any stability, and Magnus doesn’t—can’t—realize what he’s asking, trying to get Max to cling to a place that makes him feel whole.

There is no such place to Max. Alec will keep him here and keep him safe, but it takes time to build trust, for a home to become a home.

Alec lifts his hand, feels the weight of it all the way up his arm shaking slightly, and starts running fingers across Max's forehead, pushing his hair aside. “Remember the night we brought you here,” he says, keeping his voice low and his eyes trained to Max’s wondering face, “and told you it was to stay? That you would live here,” Alec flattens his hand against the side of Max’s face, “No more back-and-forth.”

Max blinks. “And me n’ Raf slept in your bed?”

Alec breathes out a sigh that is halfway to a laugh. He swallows to keep his words steady. “Yeah, Max,” he says. “And I hugged you both,” until they whined at him to stop, “And swore I’d never let anyone take either of you away from me again.”

Max looks at his hands in his lap, clearly thinking, but the irritation is gone.

“That’s what feeling safe is,” Alec says. “Knowing the people you love will always be there for you.” He can feel Magnus’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t move to find out if they like what they’re seeing or if Magnus thinks he’s just getting in the way of the lesson. If Alec has to overtly explain what safety and security are to Max, he will; as personal as the memory is for him and his sons, the fact that Magnus is here to hear it is irrelevant. It has to be.

“You need to think of something that makes you feel the same way you felt that night,” Magnus says, surprising Alec.

With what? His simple forwardness, or his clear fondness for Max?

Magnus is probably fond of all his students, Alec reminds himself. Max is no exception, but he’s not special, either.

“Alright,” Max says after a moment, “I got one. What’s next?”

Magnus has them both meditate. He tells Max to focus on the memory and try to mould it into a form and place that form somewhere in his mind he can access. Alec can’t participate in any way other than mentally, having no magic to mould and move around inside him, and he instead opts to watch as his five-year-old’s brow begins to sweat. Is this too stressful? Should he ask Magnus to stop? What if he gives Max a heart attack?

“Relax,” Magnus whispers across the small circle they’re sitting in, eyes closed. “He can feel it when you stress out, you’ll break his concentration.”

Alec forces himself to calm down.

They stay like that for the full hour. Eventually, Alec stands up and takes a seat in a chair. Jace is sleeping, head tossed back in his seat -- Raf is painting his nails. Alec frowns at his son and says, “I don’t think yellow is his colour.”

“And _that’s_ why I dress myself,” Raf says.

“We need to have a talk about that attitude of yours.”

Rafael snorts. “Oh, so _now_  you want to talk.”

“All done.” Magnus’s voice is rough, as if he’s just woken up. He opens his eyes—but that isn’t what draws Alec in.

When Max opens his, they’re full of tears. Alec almost leaps out of his seat, but stops.

Magnus is smiling at Max.

And Max is grinning back at him. “Woah,” he says, “It feels…” He wipes away the water from his eyes, sniffling a little. “I feel different.”

“Better?” Magnus asks, leaning toward him.

“Uh huh.” Max rubs his eyes. Alec watches him look at Magnus, can see the difference, the weight off his small shoulders, the ease to his jaw, the brightness that has found his voice. And the outright hope and blind trust in his eyes, all directed at his teacher. “Is my magic unlocked now?”

“Not quite, blueberry,” Magnus says. “But that’s enough for one day. What do I always say about using magic?”

“Don’t overdo it,” Max repeats like a mantra. He sags and looks at Magnus. “Do you hav’ta go now?”

“I imagine,” Magnus replies.

Max sends Alec a pout of Great Suffering. Alec offers no sympathy. “You’ll see him again tomorrow, Max.”

“But…”

“Come on," Alec says, standing. "We can walk Mister Bane out, then you’re going straight to sleep.”

Jace stirs. “I’ll put him to bed, Alec.” He looks down at his painted nails and then smirks at Rafael. “You too, Raf. I haven’t seen you guys in weeks.”

Jace leaves the room with a reluctant Max in his arms and a sleepy Rafael trailing behind. Alec watches them go, relaxing with an exhale for all of five seconds before he turns around and realizes he’s alone with Magnus.

“Yellow, really?” Jace’s voice drifts down the stairs.

Raf’s behind it, “It goes with your complexion.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh, standing and putting his hands on his hips. “Your older son is quite the fashionista, Alec. You’ve got to tell me—do you buy him Loredana and Armani Junior, or is that your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?”

“The belle with the exquisite black hair and every shade of lipstick you could ever dream of.”

Alec tries to fight off a grin, but the corners of his mouth pull up slightly. “That’s Izzy. Isabelle. My sister.”

Magnus only smiles cryptically at him and doesn’t offer Alec any reply. Not knowing what to put in the space between his own carefully guarded expression and Magnus’s open one, Alec turns around. “I’ll walk you out,” he says.

They stop near the front exit of the Institute. It’s nearly nine, and everyone has left for the day, either to a home outside of the complex or in the rooms provided within it. Before Alec can open his mouth to say goodbye, someone is calling his name.

“Alec!”

Isabelle comes bounding toward them, an electronic notebook her her arm. “And Magnus,” she says with a wild grin, “Nice to see you again. How did Max’s first lesson go?”

“He did _wonderfully_.” Magnus moves his hands in a distracting flourish. His fingers look as soft and delicate as Alec remembers them feeling. “Not that I expected anything else.”

Isabelle is about to reply, but Alec cuts her off. “Did you need something, Izzy?”

“The Seelie Queen sent this for you.” She holds a letter out toward Alec, clasped between her pointer and middle finger. “You’d better read it and respond, sooner rather than later.” Alec takes it. Isabelle looks between the two men and her grin blooms back into place. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says.

She winks at Alec and turns, the clinking of her heels her final farewell.

There is a long moment of silence. Alec looks at the letter in his hands. He should be saying goodbye, thanking Magnus, asking him if there’s anything Alec can do to help Max—but somehow, he doesn’t want to say anything. Would rather the progress of time freeze for a moment.

Magnus is the one who speaks. He stares at the letter in Alec’s hand. “There have been rumours going around that the Queen’s a little fond of you, you know,” he says. “I’m not one to spread these things, but I feel as if it might have slipped your notice.”

Alec’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. Is that what all this has been about? The Queen asking him to return over and over, only to reject his request for her signature every time?

He’s being  _courted_?

“I mean I can see why.” Black eyes rake over Alec, streaming up and down with a dragging slowness Alec can almost feel. “Any interest on your part?” Magnus asks.

It lacks his usual vigor. He sounds a little like he’s trying not to sound anxious.

“In the Seelie Queen?” Alec widens his eyes and shakes his head, staring off into space. He looks at Magnus before he speaks again. “No. I’m…”  _Gay, I’m gay_ , holy hell why can’t he say it? His kids aren’t here to hear it and he wants Magnus to know—fuck he  _wants_ Magnus to know. He shouldn’t, he should lie and tell Magnus he’s straight as the arrows he shoots but Alec doesn’t want this to stop, doesn’t want Magnus to give up flirting with him or whatever they’re doing because no one’s looked at him the way Magnus looks at him.

And no one’s ever made Max feel as comfortable as Magnus had earlier. He’d helped Max fit into his own skin, aligned something in him Alec had no idea was even there. What if it had never happened? What if Alec had let Max grow up with this whole part of himself twisted into knots he’d never unravel?

“She’s not my type,” Alec says.

“And who is?  Your type, I mean.”

Alec’s eyes drop to Magnus’s pink mouth. His heart kicks up too fast, booming behind his ears. He’s not seriously doing this—flirting with his son’s teacher. He can’t be.

“I…” Alec can’t help himself. Max and Raf aren’t here, won’t think their father is bringing someone into their lives, and he’s been so stressed and there’s something about Magnus that is relieving, liberating—

 _Fun_ , Alec thinks. “I don’t know,” he says, eyes fixating on Magnus.

Magnus smiles. It’s kind, warm, amused—and dark, all at once. Shoulders swinging like they always seem to, he takes a step closer to Alec. Magnus waves a hand languidly behind him and a portal opens wide. “Well, if you figure it out,” he says, and he slides two fingers behind Alec’s right ear, “Let me know.”

Alec shivers.

Magnus walks backwards through the portal, smirking the whole time. It’s too much—too measured and dramatic. Alec can’t stop the laugh that erupts through his core, or the grin that unfolds over his face after it.

When Magnus is gone, he stands alone for quite awhile, quietly fingering the rose behind his ear.


	6. Purple and Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this today but I'm starting to doubt myself like crazy and if I don't do it now, I never will. So here! Another chapter, brought to you by my insecurities!!!

Alec doesn’t see Magnus again for two weeks. Max does, of course—they still meet for his lessons, and Alec hears all about them the few times he’s home before Max is asleep. But Alec has a Seelie Queen to deal with.

He’s fairly sure now that the rumor Magnus had passed on to him is indeed true. The Seelie Queen is trying to proposition him. But he’s needed in the Seelie Court for a number of other reasons, or so the Queen insists. In her words, he  _must_ be present at all of their meetings. He  _must_ be ready to answer any and all questions about the peace treaty. And he  _must_ participate in all their rituals—which includes drinking a strange neon-blue tea that leaves him half-blind and feeling faint.

It’s just bureaucratic bullshit. Alec has always hated this part of his job, putting on a face and pretending to be someone he isn’t. He’d spent too much of his life doing that for his parents.

He’d told the Seelie Queen very directly that he’s not interested, she just didn’t seem to care. He’d then explained that he only dates men.

She’d offered Alec one of her sons.

It’s not until Thursday night, two and a half weeks later, that Alec has time to sit in on another lesson.

The idea of seeing Magnus again has his stomach in nervous knots. 

When Alec meets him at the front entrance to the Institute, he smiles and doesn’t bother trying to stop it. He’s had two weeks of being propositioned by a Faerie Queen. He’s sat through days’ worth of Court meetings. He’s ingested more types of Fairfolk liqueurs than he ever thought existed.

He lets the faint upturn of Magnus’s mouth and the eager glint in his eyes imprint into his mind. Alec stares for as long as he can, until it’s too much and he looks away, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Haven’t seen you in awhile,” Magnus says, soft and low. But behind it Alec can hear an excitement that reflects his own.

Alec begins walking towards the subbasement. “Been busy.”

“Ah,” Magnus steps in line beside him, “Seelie Queen still trying to bag the Hottest Shadowhunter in New York?”

“She offered me her oldest son,” Alec says, not ignoring the compliment, only unsure what to do with it.

Magnus laughs. It’s been weeks since Alec has heard it and it spreads to every far corner of his body. “How’s Max doing?” He asks.

“He doesn’t tell you?”

“I ask, but he just talks about how cool he thinks you are.”

Magnus beams. “The feeling is quite mutual,” he says. Then continues a little more seriously. He stops playing with the rings on his fingers. “He’s probably told you, but he still has yet to unlock his magic, and I’m afraid I don’t know why. We’ve done everything… He’s even memorized some Warlock runes.” Magnus seems particularly delighted at this. “He’s quite an artist, you know. Anyway—He’s ready, Alec. It has to happen soon.”

“Is he getting…” Alec searches for the right word. “Discouraged?”

“He’s starting to. He asked me yesterday after class if he’d never be able to cast a spell.”

“But you don’t think…”

Magnus shakes his head. “Max will get it.”

Running a hand through his hair, Alec thinks about how this is all his fault. How Max probably feels inadequate and wrong and Alec is the one who did it to him.

Isabelle smiles and waves at Magnus as they walk by. “Hey Magnus,” she says, like she’s saying hi to Simon or Jace.

“Hello, Isabelle.” Magnus grins. “I crowned your brother the Hottest Shadowhunter in New York moments ago, but I think I need to reevaluate,” he says, staring at her red dress.

Isabelle laughs. “You’re so good for my ego.”

Alec isn’t jealous. He’s a little confused and wondering for the second time if Magnus isn’t just a flirty person.

“Anything for the Belle of New York.”

Okay, maybe he’s a tiny bit jealous.

“Going somewhere fun?” Magnus asks.

“Just cake-tasting with Clary,” Isabelle says.

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “Why Isabelle Lightwood, you never told me. Are you getting  _married_  to your charming biscuit of a girlfriend?”

It dawns on Alec that these two have become friends in his two-week absence. But it makes sense. Magnus has been teaching his son for a month now. He’s been in and out of the Institute for nearly three weeks. Izzy has been the one picking Max up almost everyday, and she’d been sitting in on his lessons during Alec’s absence, too.

His sister’s face lights up like a firework. “I am,” she says. “I figured Alec would have said something.”

She raises a perfectly tweezed eyebrow at him. It relates something to the effect of ‘What the hell, Alec? This perfectly available, diamond studded, good-with-kids magnificent Warlock _isn’t_ your date to my wedding?’

Of course, Alec may be projecting. Her raised eyebrow might be nothing more than curiosity as to why Alec isn’t telling people about his own sister’s wedding.

He’s not going to ask Magnus to be his date. His whole family is going to be there. He came out to his parents when he was twenty-one. His mother hadn’t been too happy and still isn’t, would definitely have an aneurism if he brought a Downworlder to her daughter’s wedding, but those aren’t the real problem.

It’s how serious it would seem to Max and Raf. Seeing Magnus around their grandparents, around Alec in a family setting. It would lead them into a false sense of security.

They might start to want Magnus to stick around, and Magnus might not.

“He’s been preoccupied,” Magnus says.

When Max sees them walking down the hall toward the subbasement, he practically takes off like a rocket ship, crash-landing against Alec’s thighs. “Dad!” He squishes his face into Alec’s pant leg. “You’re here!”

“Hey.”

Alec bends down to lift his son up. He pulls him over his head, and sets him on his shoulders.

“Are you done wif,” Max corrects himself, but the ‘th’ still carries a slight ‘f’ sound, “with the Seelies?”

“Not quite,” Alec says. He tightens his grip on the blue legs slung down his front. “Sorry Max.”

“It’s okay.” Max looks down at him, putting his hands over the sides of Alec’s head. He looks to the left and his face jumps, “Magnus!”

“Did you only just notice I’m here, my tiny blueberry?”

Alec wonders when Max had started calling Magnus  by his first name.

“Does this mean you’re gonna come to- to- to watch?” Max kicks his feat against Alec’s chest. “Does it does it?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Alec says.

It’s just the three of them in the basement this time. Max shows Alec a few runes on parchment paper. Magnus looks just as proud as Alec feels, and more so with each symbol Max draws. And What is that? he wonders, and not for the first time. What is it supposed to mean? What should Alec do with the way Magnus looks at his son?

“Okay,” Magnus says, “You ready?”

Max is standing up, hands out in front of him like he’s about to fight, but unfisted. Magnus runs him through a few pointers they’ve clearly gone over before. Max listens attentively, and does some simple breath exercises before he finally attempts to let his magic out.

After thirty or so minutes of trying, Max looks ready to give up. “I can’t,” he starts, “Magnus I can’t.”

It’s been a month. All of his classmates have moved on to more complicated magic by now, Alec is sure, and Max still can’t perform basic spells. It would ruin anyone’s confidence. He watches his five-year-old’s face fall into acceptance, like he’s acquiescing to the fact that he’ll never get it.

“You can,” Magnus says. “Max, I promise. You can do it.”

“I can’t—” Tears start building up in his eyes. “I…”

Alec moves away from the wall he’d been leaning against. He stops in front of Max, sitting on his bottom on the floor. “Max. What’s wrong?”

“I, I, I—”

Fat tears start rolling down his blue cheeks. Alec wipes them away, one at a time. Max starts talking, but it’s disjointed, garbled and full of water.

“Calm down. I can’t understand you.”

“I’m- I’m- I’m sc-sc-scared!”

Alec grips at his son’s small wrist. He doesn’t know how much Max remembers about his mother, and hadn’t thought for a second he would remember what she’d done to him as a baby and a toddler.

“Why?”

“I don’t  _know_ ,” he says, and it sounds far too lost, too confounded for a child, confusion born from his subconscious. “I can feel it start to- to- to go,” he puts a shaking hand on his chest, “But it’s too, it’s—”

“She’s not here, Max. This is your magic.”

“It feels bad.” Alec wonders if some part of Max still has his mother's magic, or if the only memory of magic he has is hers.

And maybe he doesn’t remember — maybe it’s the magic inside him that does.

Alec wipes more tears from his puffy blue face. “Look at me.” Max brings one of Alec’s big hands up, hiding his face in it. “Max, look at me.”

Wet blue eyes meet his, finally. Alec drops his hands to his lap.

“It’s yours. You control it. It won’t hurt you.” Max sniffles. Alec keeps his face hard. “Stop crying. I’m here, and so is Magnus. We,” – and Alec chokes a little on the word but is aware enough to know the necessity of it: when it comes to magic, Max needs to know Magnus is there too. “—would never let anything happen to you. We wouldn’t tell you it was safe if it wasn’t.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet.

Alec stands up. Magnus looks like he’s processing, and Alec realizes that he should probably have told him about Max’s mother. It’s got to be the reason Max hasn’t been able to unlock himself and cast a single spell, all these weeks.

But it’s a hard thing to share, and even harder to remember. He still has nightmares about the first time he saw Max, just seven weeks old and squirming in a dirty, rotten cradle. It was something straight out of one of the mundane horror films Simon makes them watch.

Except it was real.

“Will you hold my hand?” Max asks.

Alec is about to say ‘Of course,’ but when he looks over, he’s not the one Max is asking.

Magnus takes his blue hand with a firm nod. “Let’s see some sparks, blueberry.”

Max takes a deep breath and holds out his free hand in front of him, palm up. Alec’s own breathing stills. He watches as Magnus rubs a thumb along the back of Max’s hand.

Three beats go by, Max’s face furrowed in determined concentration. The cool basement seems to slow, the dust in the air freezing.

With a sudden stark flash and a small whir of air, a purple ball of light blooms into existence over Max’s open palm.

Max is so stunned he screams and jumps backwards, letting go of Magnus’s hand to hold the small glow with both of his.

“Is—” He looks at Magnus with wide eyes. “Is it- Is it-”

Magnus’s grin is the brightest thing Alec thinks he’s ever seen. “It is,” he says. “You did it, Max.”

Max starts to hyperventilate a little. Magnus laughs, a ridiculously proud sound, and he sits down in front of Max with his hands held out, about to do something. But Max cuts the motion off, wastes no time crawling into his lap, nestling down. Magnus seems surprised, but smiles in clear adoration a moment later.

Magnus sets his own hands under Max’s. “Here,” he says, and ignites a ball of light of his own. His is bright blue. “This is mine.”

“It feels different.”

“All Warlocks have different magic.”

Max looks from the blue light circling in one of his hands to the purple steady pulse of light in his other. “I like it,” Max says, “It’s warm.”

“Yours too,” Magnus replies.

Max leans back into him, resting his small body against the other Warlock’s broader chest. He keeps his gaze on the lighted magic shared in their hands.

“Scared still?” Magnus asks. His cheek brushes against Max’s hair.

Purple and blue light envelop Max. His expression is unguarded, fascinated, content.

Loving.

“No,” Max whispers.

Alec’s head is spinning. Less than an hour ago he’d been worried about his kids getting attached to Magnus if he dared to date the guy, and here Max is already half-way enamoured with him.

No-

This is bad. This is-

“ _Dad_ ,” Max says, looking up Alec from Magnus’s lap. He holds his hands up to him. “I did it.”

Alec’s heart breaks.

 

* * *

 

As Alec walks Magnus to the exit, it dawns on him vaguely that he hasn’t seen Rafael at all today, despite being back in the Institute. He’s probably been with Clary, helping to plan the wedding, and she’d probably put him to bed herself.

Standing next to Magnus, Alec doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s only ever seen Max that close to his family. And even then, Max has never crawled right into anyone else’s lap like that except Alec’s, and maybe Rafael’s. He’s affectionate with everyone but not so physically, not to the point of it necessitating trust, not like he had been with Magnus.

They’d both been completely wrapped up in it. Alec is pretty sure they’d forgotten he was even there, too engrossed in each other, in the warm lights held in their hands. They’d shared something Alec would never, and could never, know. Something literally magical.

They hadn’t separated until Max had fallen asleep finally, mid-way through a sentence.

He’d felt different when Alec had picked his sleeping frame up off of Magnus’s lap. He’d been warmer. His skin was bluer, if that was possible. The tension in his shoulders and back were gone. The tiny breaths beating at Alec’s neck were easier, fuller, and more even. Alec hadn’t even known that these things were there, but it both elevates and breaks his heart to know that they’re gone.

Alec had stared at Magnus while clutching Max to his chest. He can’t remember for how long. Five minutes, an hour, three. Eventually he’d said he’d better put Max to sleep, and asked Magnus to wait for him near the Institute’s entrance.

Alec had intended to thank him, now that he’s back downstairs, but he can’t make the words come.

“We still haven’t paid you,” is what Alec ends up saying, clearing his throat as he stops in front of Magnus. “It’s been almost a month. What do I owe you?”

Magnus looks away when Alec turns his eyes on him. A faint smile forming, he says, “I don’t want any payment.” He watches as Magnus tugs at one of three rings, twirling it around with graceful fingers. Then he lets his hands fall to his sides, continuing with more certainty. “Alec. I’m helping Max because I want to. I don’t want the money.”

Alec feels something like soft, slow lightning surge to the pit of his stomach. Warm, vibrant, and strong. “Oh.” He takes a step closer, but they’re still far enough apart. “But—you’re here four days a week. You’ve got to let me give you something.”

Alec realizes the trap he’d walked into the second the words are out of his mouth.

Magnus smirks at him. “What else are you offering?”

Alec acts exasperated with a single breathy huff, but doesn’t bother trying to stop the inevitable uptick of his lips. “I mean it. I don’t know what would’ve happened if Max never had these lessons.”

“You would have figured it out,” Magnus says, waving Alec’s praise away with a hand.

And like hell he’s going to let him. “No. I thought everything was fine before. I thought Max was tense because of his past, and it would get better with time. But it never would have. It was more than that.” Alec shuts his mouth and opens it and shuts it. Scratches at his stubble and then drops his hands down to absently rub at his wrist. “He’s happier now. He used to have these breakdowns, but he hasn’t had one since he met you.”

Either it’s the faint light from the stained glass windows or Magnus’s cheeks go a little pink. “Alec, you’re being far too flattering.”

“Isn’t there anything you want?” He asks, letting his arms fall to rest at his sides. He feels a little defeated. This isn’t what Alec wants to say, but it’s all he seems to be capable of.

Magnus shakes his head. “Consider my services free of charge where Max is concerned.” Locking onto Alec’s eyes, he grins. “His father’s got a smile I’m just  _dizzy_  for.”

Alec hadn’t noticed he was smiling. He looks away, searching the long lines of a windowpane. His pulse is beating hard enough to feel it in his palms. “Isn’t there some rule against flirting with parents?” he asks.

Magnus merely shrugs. He takes a step closer, causing Alec to look at him instead of the windows. And it’s unfair, really, that Alec is taller and always sees his eyelashes and the glitter from a vantage point that makes them particularly bright. He can see down Magnus’s shirt too, though Alec swears it hadn’t had an open collar earlier.

They’re close, too close, close enough that Alec can smell his cologne and see the way the light refracts in his eyes.

“My school, my rules,” Magnus says.

Alec’s voice is lower than he means it to be. “You’re shameless.”

Magnus takes a step closer. He traces a line with his eyes down Alec’s front, from his chest to his legs and back up again. “You don’t know the _half_ of it, Alexander.”

Alec’s ability to think coherently promptly dies. He loses control of himself somewhere between Magnus admitting wholeheartedly to being shameless while staring at his cock, and the use of his full first name.

“Maybe I’d like to find out,” he says, and swears it’s not him, that someone else is talking for him because he wants to hold off for his kids’ sake, and anyway his insides have turned to jello and his head is so hot it might as well be the exact center of the sun and he’s never ever flirted in his life but Magnus makes it so _easy_ —

Alec is going to kiss him.  _Don’t you dare_ , some logical part of his brain tells him. Alec is going to do it anyway.

“Alec, wait,” Magnus says, looking at something over Alec’s shoulder.

He hasn’t moved his head in for the supposed kiss yet, but the pre-motion in his shoulders makes it obvious he was going to. Alec turns to look behind him at whatever Magnus sees.

Rafael’s wide, brown eyes stare back at him.

“Raf—” Alec’s own eyes go just as wide. His hands freeze where they were raising to do something in relation to Magnus he’s no longer thinking about.

Alec’s son bolts, running down the hall like a scared deer.

“Crap,” Alec says. His chest grows cold. He turns back to the man in front of him. “Magnus, I have to—”

Magnus shakes his head. “Go, go.”

“I’ll—” Alec looks back at him even as his feet are hurrying after his son, nearly tripping. “I’ll—”

“ _Go_ , Alec.” Magnus just smiles and Alec thinks he’s so nice and pretty and this is impossible, “I’ll see you later.”

He walks to Rafael’s room, heart racing. How much did he hear? Fuck, how much did he see? He hadn’t been that close to actually kissing Magnus, but Rafael is way too perceptive and Alec hadn’t been trying to be subtle; he thought they were alone. He doesn’t know how many times he needs to say this to himself, to reassure himself, but it’s not because it was with another man, it’s because Max and Raf seeing him with someone would scare the living crap out of his kids because they’ve both lacked stability and love and support and Max is so sensitive and Raf has overwhelming trust issues and they both think that at any second the place and people they call ‘home’ could disappear.

And maybe it’s a little bit the gay thing, too. But he’d never lie to them about it. His residual internalized homophobia from his parents can shove it—Alec won’t let it pass on to his kids.

“Rafael?” Alec calls into the dark din of his bedroom.

Rafael is buried under the blankets of his comforter.

“Raf.” Alec sits on the end of his bed. “Come on, talk to me.”

“Go. Away.”

“Not happening.” Alec places a hand on Rafael’s foot through the blankets. “You know I’ll sit here all night.”

“Have fun,” he says, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Are you upset about Magnus?”

“ _Screw_  Magnus.”

Alec’s eyes go wide. There was venom in his voice. He has no illusions that kids never said words they shouldn’t out of adult ear-shot, but for Raf to say it at all and right in front of Alec, he must be angry.

Alec’s voice grows into a somber tone toward his son, just above a whisper. “Rafael.” He pulls the covers off his face.

Black hair is plastered to his brown skin, from tears and sweat. He keeps his face mostly buried in the pillow. “Why does he need to be here? Why can’t _you_ just teach Max?”

“I’m not a Warlock,” he says simply.

“You never cared before. You used to say we can do it on our own, that we don’t need anyone.”

“I was wrong, Raf.” Alec thinks about the difference in Max, after only one month. “I didn’t know what I was talking about. Max needs to learn this, and I can’t teach him.”

Rafael mumbles something.

“What?” Alec asks.

His son turns his head to free his mouth from the pillow. “I wish Max was a Shadowhunter.” He scowls at the wall across the room. “I hate Warlocks.”

Rafael’s favourite line of clothing is designed by Loredana Ray, a well-known Faerie. He insists Vampires have the best know-how on suits and footwear. One time at the Academy a teacher made a comment about him having a Warlock for a brother, and Rafael had poured his juice box in her lap.

Alec had given him a consequence, but he’d secretly been proud.

The point is, Raf doesn’t hate Warlocks, or any Downworlders. Things are still tense after Valentine’s defeat—you don’t reverse centuries of discrimination and prejudice in a matter of years—but he’s growing up in a world without eminent war. Where he can wear clothes designed by a Faerie, and some people, especially kids his own age, won’t bat an eyelash at him.

Alec moves black hair out of Raf’s eyes, running a finger behind his ear. “What’s gotten into you?”

Rafael pushes his hand off his forehead. “Just go away.” He yanks the covers back over him.

“I know we haven’t trained together like I promised,” Alec says. It’s not the real problem, but it’s something. Rafael will talk about whatever he needs to talk about when he’s ready, and not before. Trying to push it would be like trying to move a mountain.

He’s a lot like Alec in that sense.

“Yeah.” The form under the blankets shifts. “You forgot.”

“And I’ve been spending more time with Max.”

Rafael throws the covers off his face, hair static and ridiculous. “Dad. I’m not a baby.” After giving Alec a thorough glare, Raf pulls the blankets over himself again. Voice muffled and grumpy, he says, “I get it, Max needs you right now.”

“He needs both of us.” The words come out without a thought. He stretches himself out along Rafael’s comparatively small bed, his feet hanging out over the foot of it. “Tuesday nights,” Alec says, “Training. Like we planned.”

“What about Max’s lessons?”

“We can start early, as soon as you’re home from the Academy.”

“What about the Seelies?”

Alec shrugs. “I’ll tell them I’m busy.”

Rafael pulls the covers away from his face again. “Okay,” he says, “But don’t forget this time.” His voice is frail, void of its typical overconfidence and pride or any attitude at all.

He sounds scared.

“And we still need to make it to Max’s lessons.”

“Deal,” Alec says.

He doesn’t leave until Rafael falls asleep. When he gets to his own room, Alec looks at the three roses behind the mirror in his bathroom, each one as bright and vibrant as they day Magnus had given them to him.

He thinks of the absolute fear in Rafael’s eyes. First when he’d caught Alec about to give in and kiss Magnus, and then only moments ago.

Alec looks at his reflection. “I can’t do this,” he says in a whisper, rubbing at his mouth, his son’s own fear seeping into his words. Whatever the reason for it, Alec can’t put them through anymore. He’s got to be a father to them before he’s anything to anyone else.

Heart more than a little heavy, he plucks all three roses from his mirror and tosses them into the trash.


	7. Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta!!!! [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com/)!!! I'm!!! So happy!!! She wrote some of the lines in this chapter, and probably will for others. When I do finish this we'll all have her to thank!!

With his magic finally unlocked, Max comes home every day with a new spell, performing for Alec and everyone while they eat dinner, attempt to get through paperwork, try to have a conversation, and at any and all other pertinent times.  Magnus had apparently taught him how to levitate objects, and Max has taken to moving things around the room for fun, much to Alec’s dismay.

He’s overjoyed that Max can do magic now.  He just wishes it didn’t involve the laundry floating across the room like the Institute was haunted.

“Got your books?” Alec asks when Max meets him in the kitchen.  This is his third time returning from his bedroom to check on his plants and various other magical objects.  Some of them are new, from Magnus.

Alec hasn’t seen him since Max unlocked his magic a week ago.  He’d asked Isabelle to drop Max off at the school, mostly because he still had Seelie business to attend to, but also to create some space between himself and Max’s teacher.

That that doesn’t sound right, ‘Max’s teacher.’  As if calling him that might make the space greater, as if it makes any difference, will help Alec at all to forget him. But he doesn’t know what else to do.  He has to push Magnus away, for Raf’s sake.

Max’s too, in the long run.  

Max snaps his fingers and his text books pop into his arms.  “Yup!"

When they arrive, Magnus greets them at the door with a soft smile.  After high-fiving Max as he runs into the classroom, he looks at Alec and smirks.  “I see the Seelie Queen hasn’t completely spent you yet, Alexander.  Your stamina must be inexhaustible.”

Alec opens his mouth, eyes stuck looking into darker ones until he manages to ignore the suggestion in them.  He clamps his mouth shut and looks at a wall, gathering himself. Then he looks at Magnus again, jaw set, and re-evaluates whether what he wants to say is flirty or just something he needs to get out. Deciding, he says it.  “I’m gay, Magnus.”

Brown eyes widen slightly.  There are other parents in the room, but here at least the biggest worry Alec has is not his sexual identity.

“I know, Alec.  I was only teasing,” Magnus says.  “I meant no offence.”

How does he know?  Alec hasn’t told him, not outright.  

“You didn’t—” Alec folds his arms.  “It’s fine.”

Magnus looks a little unsure and Alec makes no move to ease his insecurity.  Won’t let himself.

“Is Rafael alright?”  Magnus asks after a beat of awkward silence.  His voice is lower than a whisper so no one side-eyeing them can hear.

“I don’t know. He can be stubborn when it comes to talking about how he feels.”

Magnus widens his eyes and looks to the side, a playfully sarcastic expression that reflects his words: “I can’t imagine where he gets that from.”

Alec recognizes the jab for what it is, and smirks.  But he drops it a second later.  Reins himself in.  “Look, Magnus,” he looks at Magnus’s lips and jaw and the taut tendons of his neck and then closes his eyes, frustrated with himself. “Can we…”

Something inside the classroom explodes.  Not the dangerous, parent-worrying kind, just the children-between-the-ages-of-five-and-twelve-are-learning-how-to-use-magic kind.

Magnus swivels in a circle, hands at the ready.  “It looks like, for once, I’m the one who has to leave and cut our conversation short,” he says, his back to Alec as he leans forward to peer inside his classroom.  “Will I see you at Max’s next lesson?”

Alec worries his lip between his teeth, then responds, “I don’t know.”

Eyes still on the commotion in the other room, Magnus leaves with a curt nod.

 

* * *

 

Magnus doesn’t have time to wonder about Alexander’s standoffish behaviour until mid-morning.  The first lesson of the day had been fireballs, every young Warlock’s favourite.  It requires his immediate and complete attention.

Now, however, all ten of his pupils are sitting in a wide circle and practicing their breathing.  An ancient exercise that does wonders for their minds and allows them time to focus on their bodies, a skill sorely lacking in most people, Downworlders and mundanes alike.  Teaching magic to children goes hand in hand with teaching them how to understand and express their emotions.  Meditation is a huge part of that, one most other teachers Magnus has met intentionally ignored for want of more interested pupils and parents.

But for Magnus, this has only ever been about one thing: Raising young Warlocks into responsible adults who know how to handle themselves  _and_ their powers.  There is not much worse for the world than an adult with the emotional comprehension capabilities of a child, or a Warlock who doesn’t know their limits.

“ _Magnus_ ,” Max whispers from the far side of the circle.  Magnus cracks one eye open to look at him.  He has strict rules about talk during meditations, unless—Right.  Max is wiggling in his seat, his gaze pleading and hilariously distressed.  

He nods at Max, and the small blueberry scurries out to the main entrance and into the bathroom.

Magnus usually sends one of the older students to wait in the lobby when a younger one needs to use the restroom, but he doesn’t want to disrupt their meditation.  They don’t always settle down this easily.  So he waits in the doorway between the classroom and the lobby, and finally has time to think.

Alec had been acting strangely.  By now Magnus knows he’s a reserved man by nature, but he’d been more than that this morning.  It might have something to do with Rafael, or Max, or his work, or any number of things Alec never talks to him about.

It’s not entirely Magnus’s business.  But he can’t help but hope that Alec would tell him anyway.  Not merely put him at an arm’s length without explanation.

Magnus is terribly worried that that arm’s length will include Max. After everything, after days and days with him and coaxing him to sense his own energy, to relax, to let himself be just that,  _himself_ ; after Magnus had watched his magic spark to life and felt its warm glow in his own hands along with Max’s small back pressing into his chest; after the errant thought had passed through Magnus’s mind that this is what it would be like, if he’d had children of his own—he doesn’t think he could stand it.  

Max is Alec’s son and Magnus would never dream of infringing upon that.  He only hopes that Alec will allow him to be part of Max's life, no matter what goes on between them.

And he had hoped - does hope - that something would go on.  Magnus is quite distressed over Alexander Lightwood and his brown eyes with five different shades of green streaming through them, his foolish height and his ability to look so small despite it.  The way he ignores Magnus in favour of his sons constantly, and how Magnus finds it endearing and admirable.  The clear light that fills his face whenever Max and Rafael are around.

Alec is a good father.  He’s so devoted to his children it makes Magnus unsteady at times, turns his knees into water.  

The first time he'd seen Alec he'd been squatting down to talk with Max about why the other parents were so perturbed by the presence of Shadowhunters and the idea of one parenting a Warlock.  Magnus took one look at him when Alec stood up and turned around and he knew he was never going to rid him from his mind. He's attractive and that's certainly nice - but Alexander is so much more, there's so much more Magnus wants to _know_ about him. 

A doubtless foolish smile is just starting to spread across his lips, when the front door of the lobby slips open suddenly, stilling Magnus’s thoughts.

He doesn’t get many visitors during the day, and most who come are sure to send word before hand.  

When a female Warlock with familiar blue skin and hair walks into Magnus’s lobby, every alarm system inside him goes off.  

Magnus does not know much about Max’s estranged mother, but he knows enough.  Before she’s got herself fully inside his school, Magnus snaps a firenote into the classroom.  Seconds later a young Warlock of ten comes out, her red pixie cut accented by small horns.

“Scarlett, Max is in the bathroom.  I need you to glamour him, walk him back into the classroom, and lock the door.”

Her green eyes widen.  “Is everything okay?”  

“Everything is fine.  Safety precautions, my dear.”

The blue Warlock is heading for Magnus, a smile on her face he wouldn’t trust for all the diamonds in the world.

Scarlett’s eyes go wide.  Max has told the class about his mother, in the vague way a five-year-old recounts a past he barely remembers: through tear-garbled words and an anxiety he’s too young to deal with.

“Is that-?”  
  
“Go,” Magnus says.

Scarlett leaves without another word.

Magnus turns a bright, flowering smile on the blue Warlock, locking his shoulders in place by way of intimidation.  “Hello, and welcome.  What can I do for you?”

“My name is Allison. I believe you have my son here in your school.”

Magnus had always thought Max’s mother’s name would be something more stereotypically sinister sounding, like Morticia, or would lead him into a false sense of security, like Priscilla or Petunia.  ‘Allison’ is just so ordinary.

“And what might your son’s name be?”

“I called him something quite different, but I expect you know him as ‘Max.’” She seems to spit the name out.

Her long fingernails clip at the table Magnus is standing behind.  She has sleek blue hair, flat against her back, and a warmth around her lips.  She does look like Max, a little, in the jaw and cheeks.  But she has none of his spark.

Magnus pretends to look apologetic.  “I’m afraid I don’t have any students by that name currently enrolled here.”  Behind him, the classroom doors lock.  Her eyes dart towards it.  He keeps talking. “Perhaps he’s enrolled outside of America?  Many families choose to send their children overseas.”

“I know he’s here,” Allison says.  

Magnus folds his arms.  “If he  _were_ here, Miss, I wouldn’t be allowed to release him to you.”

“What  _is_ a High Warlock doing teaching a bunch of backward brats?”  She turns her nose up  at him.  It reminds Magnus distinctly of someone, only he can’t quite recall who.  “Too stressful playing with the big boys?”

If she thinks teaching is less stressful than organizing a whole city as a High Warlock, then she’s certainly never spent a single day with children.

As it were, Magnus manages to do both—but he doesn’t feel the need to say so.

“I’m going to get him and take him home,” Allison says, suddenly rounding the table and heading towards the locked doors.  “And you aren’t stopping me, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus doesn’t have a lot of failsafes to fend off Warlocks, and he has no wards for it.  There has never been a need for them.  And he’d thought, all this time, that Max’s mother was dead or imprisoned.  Certainly not walking around the streets of Brooklyn, at any rate.

She gets to the door too fast and opens it with a simple spell, nothing more than a wave of a hand, and Max is right there.

He gets an eye-full of his mother before Magnus wells enough power in his hands to slam the doors shut again.  He locks a new ward over the them, one meant specifically to keep this woman out.

“He  _is_ here,” she whispers, pressing a long, thin hand on the door.  It zaps with electric blue light, biting her.  She turns to look at Magnus in a furious rage.  “You can’t keep him in there forever, High Warlock, and he is  _my_ son.”  She sweeps her long hair over one shoulder.  “I don’t even want to think about what that Shadowhunter has done to him.”

Magnus does not bother to dignify that with a response. Instead, he smiles and says, “You can let yourself out now.”

She puts a hand on a hip and raises an eyebrow.  Magnus’s stance doesn’t falter.  

With a careless sigh, Allison turns to go.  “We’re connected, him and I,” she says, “He’ll come back to me on his own someday, even if that Shadowhunter manages to get full custody.  In the end, the boy is mine.”

Suddenly Magnus knows exactly who she reminds him of.  Speaking of other people like they’re property, like they’re toys she gets to play with, pretentious, rude, and an approximation of insanity in its most literal of terms.

The second Allison is gone, Magnus wards the front doors against her.  Then he unlocks the classroom.

The rest of his students are fawning over Max, who is very still and very quiet and has turned a very pale shade of blue.

As Alec is busy during the daytime and had asked Magnus to do so incase of emergencies, Magnus calls Isabelle. She arrives in less than one minute, and though she tries, Max won’t be hugged.

Distressed, she looks at Magnus.  “What happened?”

“He saw her,” Magnus says.  He had already explained the gist of it over the phone.  “I wasn’t fast enough.  It was only a moment, but…”

Isabelle shakes her head at him.  “No, Magnus.”  She takes one of his hands and squeezes it.  “ _Thank you,_ for keeping him safe.”

He squeezes back.  “I’ll put up new wards,” he says, “She won’t get back in here, Isabelle.  I can do the same at the Institute,” and his own home, just to be sure.  “I had no idea she was around.  If I thought for a second she would walk in here I would’ve had wards in place.  I swear.”

“Alec never told you about her?”  

Magnus shakes his head.  

Isabelle frowns.

Before she leaves with Max, who is finally held in her arms, Magnus sets a hand on his small shoulder.  

“Max?” The little Warlock doesn’t move.  He seems almost catatonic.  “Max,” Magnus says again, holding tighter to his shoulder.  “You have to know, I’d never let  _anything_ happen to you.”  
  
Max doesn’t even look at him.

 


	8. By Any Other Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have [Anna](http://www.woodsbande.tumblr.com) to thank for this getting posted. She saved the fic, guys!

Cell phones are strictly prohibited during Seelie Court meetings, so Alec doesn’t get around to checking his until it’s four pm and he’s on the subway, heading back to the Institute.

There are two missed calls from Isabelle, and four messages. 

 _Allison showed up at Max’s school today._  

 _Magnus handled it, but Max saw her._  

 _Max is really freaked out._  

 _come home asap._  

The chattering on the busy subway car mutes in Alec’s ears.  The whir of the rails beneath him ring and ring, something static in the air pulling the sound out from all the other noise around it.  His hand for a moment goes limp and his phone crashes to the floor. 

Alec scrambles down to pick it up, re-reading the texts, thinking this must be a dream. 

The first four years Alec had had Max, it was in the midst of a constant tug-of-war with his mother.  She would prove to the Clave that she was fit to parent and they would force Alec to release Max back to her, then she would neglect to feed him or bathe him, or leave him home alone, and the Clave would take Max from her and give him back to Alec.  Then Allison would again clean up her act and give off the pretence of competent parenting, get Max back and then Alec would go to Lydia, their lawyer, and Lydia would prove to the Clave  _again_  that Max was being neglected, and Alec would get him back once more. 

The back-and-forth had been really hard on Max.  He hated to be held by anyone for a full year, his breakdowns were frequent, and any hint of magic sent him into a panic.

Alec didn't put Max through it all because he thought he was the only person in the world who could take care of him.  It wasn’t some power struggle, either.  He’d never put Max through so much just to prove something. He'd _needed_ to get Max away from his mother.

Alec had first met Max on a mission with Jace almost five years ago.  They’d found themselves in the basement of a Warlock, looking for a key to an old vault, when Alec heard haggard, tiny breathing in the room adjacent to them.  He’d walked inside, bow ready and keeping his footsteps silent as falling silk. 

The room had been strange. There were vials full of dark liquid, beakers of various coloured potions, and sharp electrical equipment that sat on top of a rusting metal table. And off to the far wall, intensely out of place, was a crib. 

It was old and rotting, almost falling apart.  The tiny baby inside it was thin, grey, and covered in brown grime.  Shaking, Alec had tried to lift the then-unknown baby from the crib.

The moment his hands came close, Max had screamed. 

Babies don’t know fear innately—someone has to teach it to them. What had happened, he wondered at the time, that made this baby afraid of someone trying to pick it up?

Alec carried the screaming Max out of the basement, out of the house, and all the way back to the Institute.  Isabelle hooked him up, very carefully, to an IV.  There were red burn marks on his back and wrists.  They’d tested him and found traces of magic in his system, not his own, and at levels dangerous to an adult.

Alec had been charged with kidnapping the next day.  Isabelle called Lydia Branwell and Lydia had had the charged lifted, and gotten them temporary custody of Max until further investigations of his mother could be done. 

Then it was four years of the back-and-forth until eventually, a year ago, Allison had lost all custody rights to Max. 

She can no longer appeal to have the Clave reevaluate her case, she has no visitation rights, and she isn’t allowed within a twenty-mile radius of her son.  Lydia had been Alec’s lawyer through every single court case, including the final one; she’d found evidence of Allison’s physical abuse and not even the Clave’s prejudices in light of Max being a Downworlder could let them see past that. 

Alec had never learned what exactly Allison had been doing to him, but he’ll die before he lets Max go back there. 

He’d made a promise to both of his sons that Max wouldn’t go anywhere, ever again.  

Alec will do anything to keep that promise. 

He runs from the station to the Institute, panting when he walks inside.  He hurries up the stairs and into Max’s room. 

Isabelle and Clary are there, sitting on Max’s bed.  Isabelle is reading through one of the books Magnus had lent Alec, and Clary has a hand in Max’s hair, talking softly to him. 

Max is wide awake.  His gaze empty, unblinking. 

Barely breathing, Alec crosses the room and lands on his knees in front of Max’s bed.  “Max,” he says, and when there’s no reply, no recognition, “Hey, it’s me.  _Max_.”

“It’s no use.”  Isabelle sets the book down on the bed.  “He’s been like this all afternoon.  He won’t talk to any of us.” 

“What happened?” 

“Magnus said she showed up and Max saw her before he could stop it.” 

“Did she do something to him?” 

Isabelle shakes her head.  “Magnus kept her away.  Look, Alec, you need to…” But Clary puts a hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. 

“Later,” she says.  “Why don’t we go train?  Or finally order my dress.”  Isabelle looks at her like she’s crazy for suggesting they leave, but Clary speaks again, this time softer.  “Max might do better with just Alec here.” 

Then she pulls her fiancée to her feet, taking her hand. 

“You’ll let us know if anything changes?”  Isabelle asks.

Alec nods, sitting in the space left by his sister and Clary.  “Thank you.  For being here.”

“We love you, mijo,” Isabelle says to her nephew before they leave.  Clary runs her free hand through blue hair once more.  “Open up that big mouth of yours again soon, okay?”

 

* * *

  

Max’s breakdowns in the past have always been full of screaming and tears. Alec has had to hold Max to stop him from hitting himself, or use his hands over Max’s head like a shield so Max couldn’t rip at his hair.  

Alec has never seen this before, this daunting silence, his unwavering, blank eyes. 

Max doesn’t say a word to him the full two hours Alec stays in his room.  

He wants to call Magnus.  He wants to call him and ask what he should do.  He wants to tell Magnus he thinks he’s the worst father in the world and hear Magnus tell him he isn’t, that it’s not Alec’s fault—even if it is. 

But he can’t do that.  He can’t call Magnus just to have someone to talk to, just because it would make him feel better.  He doesn’t even deserve to feel better.  It’s Alec’s fault she’d gotten into the school – he should have told Magnus about Allison  _weeks_  ago, the moment he enrolled Max.  

He should call Magnus and  _thank_  him, but Alec won’t do that, either. 

Max falls asleep eventually.  Alec changes his clothes, kisses him on the temple and makes to leave, but stops beside the bed. 

At only five years old, Max is tiny.  He barely comes up to Alec’s thighs.  He’s thin from malnutrition as a baby.  While being little, his outgoing personality adds to him - makes him seem bigger and taller.  And without it, without his mouth churning words a mile a minute, Max looks unbelievably small. 

Alec pulls the blankets back and gathers Max up in his arms, not missing the way his body tenses.  He carries Max like a piece of glass to his room, as if any sudden movement and he would shatter. Alec sets him on the bed gently, not wanting to wake him. Alec looks at him on the the king-sized mattress and thinks he looks even smaller; e takes up such a tiny space, just a blue spot on the bed.   

Alec goes to the connecting bathroom to get ready. 

He pulls on a t-shirt and sweats and then Alec crawls into his bed, feeling the weight of the day hang heavy along his back, stringing around his heart until it’s heavy, too.  He turns to face Max.  His eyes are darting around under their lids, and Alec hopes he’s not having a nightmare on top of everything else. 

Rafael comes in a moment later, breathless.  He’d been with Jace at the Academy for a night lecture, something about Shadowhunter History Alec is sure Jace fell asleep during. 

“Dad.”  Rafael is whispering.  His brown eyes are glassy and pupils dilated, form silhouetted in the yellow light of the hall.  Alec turns over and sits up.  “Is Max okay?”  Raf asks, looking at his brother as he walks fully into the room. 

Alec shakes his head.  “I don’t know, Raf.  I think he’s really scared.” 

“Is his mom taking him away again?”  It feels like a stab through the chest, hearing his son’s voice break.  “Is she?” 

“No.” Alec’s own voice is unrecognizable, hoarse and impeded by all the memories that come flooding to him.  This is not the first time Rafael has asked him that. “Come here, okay?” 

Even at only not-quite eight years old, Rafael is too cool for cuddling, but tonight is an exception.  He crawls onto Alec’s bed, pulling himself up to the pillows with anxious hands.  He slips between his dad and his brother and wraps Max in his brown arms, setting his chin over blue hair.  Max doesn’t seem to tense up at all.  He sighs in his sleep and buries his head in Rafael’s neck. 

Alec pulls the covers over the three of them, curving his long body around his kids.  They haven’t done this since the night Alec had taken Max home for good, and he hopes the sentiment makes its way to Rafael, if not both of them. 

Everything goes quiet, their breathing and Alec’s heartbeat the only sounds, and eventually he falls fast asleep. 

He wakes up at two-thirty-three to the sound of Max’s voice, eerie in the static stillness of full-night.  “Dad…?”  He’s standing on the floor, peering at Alec where he’s lying in bed.  Alec barely has time to be relieved that Max is talking.  “Dad, I don’t feel so good.” 

Alec sits up.  “Hey.” 

Max’s eyes flutter and his pupils roll, his knees bending like folding straws.  “Max!” Alec switches to fully awake, and catches him at his shoulders before he collapses onto the floor, his tiny body falling limp in his hands.

“Max!” Alec says again, shaking him gently.  There’s no response, only wisps of his breathing and the cold feeling of his skin.  Why is he so cold?  He feels like a block of ice—he feels like he’s dying, Alec realizes.  He gathers Max in his arms and sets him back down on the bed, palms hot and sweating against his freezing skin.  “ _Max_ ,” Alec tries again, rolling his knuckles into his sternum to try and shock him awake.  Nothing.  He sets his cheek next to Max’s nose—he’s breathing, at least, but it’s so faint, so laboured and useless.

Warlocks, Alec is sure, don’t get sick like Shadowhunters or mundanes.  They only get sick through their magic.  Max has never had a cold or the flu, he’d just seen his mother, and he’s been using magic for everything possible since Magnus had helped him unlock it.  Whatever's going on has to be magic-related.

There’s no use in waking up the Institutes’s medical doctor, or running tests on Max.  Alec knows who he needs.

He pulls out his phone and calls Magnus. He doesn’t care about whatever else is going on between them.  He doesn’t care that it’s two-thirty-four in the morning.  He doesn’t care if Magnus’s voice over the line will reassure him or not, if asking him here is asking too much, if Max is too attached, too soon. 

“Magnus-”

“Alexander?”  His words are scratchy and laden with sleep, “What—”

“Something’s wrong with Max.  He’s unconscious and he’s freezing and I don’t—” _I don’t know what to do_ , he thinks.  “Magnus it’s like he’s- he’s dy-”

“Alec, calm down.”  The rustling of bedsheets crackles through the phone.  “You said he’s cold.  What are his other symptoms?”

He looks at Max.  On the other side of the bed, Rafael is starting to stir.  “His skin’s almost grey, his breathing is shallow, and…”  He pulls one of his eyelids back, for no better reason than he wants to give Magnus as much information as possible.  Alec has no idea what he’s doing, what he needs to do to keep Max safe. 

The irises of eyes are entirely engulfed by their pupils.  It’s uncanny, and looks nearly manic.  Alec’s breath shakes and it must have been loud, because Magnus says, “What is it?”

“Nothing—Sorry.” He drops Max’s eyelid and runs a hand roughly through his own hair.  “His pupils are huge,” Alec says, gripping his phone tighter.  He means to sound firm and commanding, but instead, he just sounds helpless and afraid: “What’s- What’s going on, Magnus?  Is he-” 

Magnus cuts him off.  “Have Isabelle take him to the infirmary and set him up with an IV.  I’ll be there in a moment.”

‘A moment’ turns out to be less than seconds.  Alec wakes up up Izzy, Rafael in tow having woken up on his own.  When they get Max to the infirmary, Magnus is already there.  Very delicately, Isabelle sets the needle into one of Max’s tiny veins, starting the IV.

Magnus doesn’t look at Alec, hasn’t at all.  He just walks over to Max where he’s lying motionless on the hospital bed, brow drawing down.  

He asks Isabelle a few questions that drown out to white noise in Alec’s ears.  He thinks maybe Magnus tries to talk to him, but Alec can’t concentrate.  His head fills with all of Max’s smiles, every different laugh he has, every morning Alec had ever woken up with Max jumping on him, or with Max sleeping soundly next to his head.  The first steps he took, the first word he spoke – the first time he’d called Alec ‘Dad.’

Did Allison do something to Max?  If she did and Max actually- (and he can’t say it, it can’t happen) Alec will kill her.  It won’t even be hard.  It would be harder not to.

Purple light begins filling the room, pulling Alec from his head.  Magnus lifts his hands up, and the glow builds in his palms.  

But before he can put them to use, Rafael is on him.  

He pulls down at one of Magnus’s wrists, scowling, and he snaps, “Don’t!”

“Raf!” Alec moves to grab him, but Rafael ducks.

“Don’t lay a finger on my brother, you freak!”

Magnus doesn’t look angry or upset, only worried.  And a little sad.  “Rafael, I promise you, I’m not going to hurt him.”

Alec finally gets his hands on Rafael and lifts him up, holding tight and carrying him away from his unconscious brother.  The moment he does Magnus starts working on Max, purple light filling the room once again.

“Let me  _GO_!”  Raf shouts, kicking at Alec’s lower stomach.  “He’s probably the one who hurt him, Dad!  We can’t let him—”

“ _Rafael_.” His voice carries across the entire room, compelling and authoritative. He reserves the tone for work within the Institute, or when the boys are being especially bad.  Alec sets his oldest son down on his feet, but keeps his hands on his upper arms.  He sits on the floor, to look into his eyes and for better leverage in case he tries to run.  “Magnus is going to  _help_  him,” Alec says, voice wavering.

“No he’s not! He’s gonna hurt him!”  Rafael’s brown eyes start to well with hot, angry tears.

Alec grips at his arms.  “I wouldn’t let him do that.” 

“How would you stop him?”  His voice is low, boarding on an untempered darkness Alec’s never heard from him before.  He glowers, looking to the ground.  “You never can.”

He doesn’t know what Raf is talking about.  He never can what?

The room switches to a sudden bright flash of blue, distracting both Alec and Rafael.  It’s followed soon by wisps of purple which gather above Max’s lifeless looking body and fold down into him like a flock of hungry birds.  Magnus chants something in a foreign language Alec recognizes only because Max has learned a few words of it.  

Rafael turns around to watch.  After a moment, Alec releases his hold on his arms; Raf doesn’t move.  “What’s…” he starts, but the words dissolve into nothing.

With a final flush of bounding blue light, Magnus lowers two hands onto Max’s small body, pushing streams of purple magic into him.  Max takes in a sharp breath of air that’s high-pitched and scraping, like it hurts him to do it, but Magnus doesn’t stop for quite some time.

Eventually, the air in the infirmary slows to a drifting calm.  The white lights of the medical equipment and the off-yellow of then lamps replace the wild blue and purple, and Magnus lowers his hands, a quiver to his shoulders.

“Max?”  Magnus says, and Alec can hear how the name sounds precious on his lips, the way he swallows after it.  He places a hand on his forehead.  “Blueberry, you absolutely have to wake up.  There are too many people here who-” his voice cracks then, causing him to trip over his words – something Alec has yet to hear Magnus do. “Who love you,” he finishes, patting Max’s blue hair with painted nails.

Alec watches the back of Rafael’s head, wondering what his expression looks like, what he thinks about what he’s seeing.  He stands up and puts a hand on Rafael’s shoulder, walking them both over to the side of the bed.

Max’s skin is back to its brilliant blue, and when Alec sets a hand on his cheek, it’s warm.

“Max,” Alec whispers.  Rafael grips onto his arm, tiny fingers digging into his skin.  Alec is about to turn to Magnus and ask if this is normal, if he’s comatose, if he’s going to wake up soon or maybe never again, ask him  _what the hell is happening_ —

when two blue eyes flutter open, bleary to the world around them.

“Dad?  Raf?”  Max blinks over at his father and brother.  Alec watches him, relief hitting him like a wall of fire. Max’s expression contorts from fear to confusion and then, skipping over to Magnus, to surprise.  “Magnus!”

Magnus’s eyes are glossy.  “Hello.”

“What happened?  Why’re you here?  Why’re we in the hos’pidal?  Hi aunt Izzy!” 

Isabelle walks over.  She gives Max a big wet kiss on the cheek.  “Nice to hear your voice again, mijo.”

Max giggles.  

Isabelle says, “How do you feel, Maxie?” 

“Sleepy,” he replies, a long yawn immediately following.  He sits up on the bed and crawls towards Magnus, who is having a hard time keeping his expression stern. 

“Max.”  The blue Warlock begins trying to climb into Magnus’s arms, seeming not to hear him.  “You’ve been over-using your magic, haven’t you?” 

Max freezes.

“I told you how dangerous that is.”  

He looks up at Magnus with his puppy-eyes that sometimes catch even Alec up, though he should know better.  “I just…”

“No excuses,” Magnus says, “If you can’t be responsible with your magic at home, then I’ll have to tell your father not to let you use it at all.”

“But- But-”

“None of that.”  He places a finger over his own mouth, by way of shushing Max.  “I know it’s fun blueberry, but you really hurt yourself.”  Magnus sets a gentle hand on the side of Max’s head, voice falling feather-soft.  “You scared us.”

It takes Alec a moment to gather himself up, to ignore the scene in front of him, to shove whatever he might be feeling into a dark corner of his mind.  When he’s collected he says, “Time for bed, Max. You need to rest.” 

Max looks from Alec to Magnus and then back to Alec.  “I want Magnus to take me, Dad.”

Alec feels his chest go faint.  “No.” 

“But I need-” 

“No, Max. I’m taking you,” he says, “You too, Raf.  Let’s go.”

“No!”  Max folds his arms, still sitting on the bed, and doesn’t budge.  “I want  _Magnus_.”

Alec fights the urge to pull his hair out.  Why is this so hard? Max is so attached, too soon, and Alec feels like he’s swimming up current trying to keep him safe.  Why hadn’t he stomped this out before it began?  Why had he ever let his own feelings distract him from what he needs to do?

“Alec,” Magnus starts, and his voice, his fucking  _voice_ , it’s so soothing and Alec wants to bathe in it, let it carry away every single worry he’s ever had, “I gave him some of my own energy, so he’s-”

Alec can’t care.  He  _doesn’t_.

“ _Go_ ,” he snaps, cutting Magnus off. “Both of you.  Now.” 

“Alec, just let Magnus take him,” Isabelle says, “What’s the big deal?”

The ‘big deal’ is that it crosses a line, one he’s determined to keep drawn between them.  Alec glares at his sister, more so to keep himself rigid than out of any anger.  If he slips up, turns off, even for a second, Alec knows he’ll let Magnus take Max to bed.

And then he’ll invite Magnus into his.

“I’ll take you, Max,” Rafael says, looking at his father.  Gaze turning to Max, he continues, soft and careful, “Okay?”

Max looks forlornly up at Magnus.  “But…”

The older Warlock smiles down at him.  “Listen to your father, Max.” 

Regarding Magnus with a frown a moment longer, Max almost jumps off the bed, latching onto him. Despite his own instructions, Magnus laughs.  He crushes Max to his chest, holding him tightly.  Max gives Magnus a kiss on his forehead.  Magnus’s grin is lopsided and ridiculous. 

Alec feels like he’s losing control of his life.

“Let your brother take you,” Magnus says.  Max has his head lying on Magnus’s shoulder, almost asleep.  His hands are balled into tiny fists where they’re gripping at his shirt.  It’s like they’re sharing something — besides the obvious emotional connection — as if they’re breathing the same breaths. 

The potential for Magnus to hurt his son is plain.  It’s right on Max’s content, sleepy face. 

Alec’s starts to feel sick, the worry overpowering. 

“I’ll see you later, my tiny blueberry,” Magnus says, pulling Max away from him.  Then he looks at Rafael. 

Alec’s older son doesn’t say anything.  He just takes Max when Magnus passes him down, nodding once, and leaving without comment. 

“There’s just one thing I need to know before I can go back to sleep,” Isabelle says, looking at Magnus.  “I thought Max passed out because he saw his mother.” 

Magnus says, “That would have been the final straw, my dear. A dangerous cocktail of forgotten emotional trauma and exhaustion from over-using his magic.”

“Got it,” she says.  And then suddenly, Isabelle wraps Magnus in a tight hug.  She tugs him into her arms and squeezes.  “Thank you,” she leans up, kissing him on the cheek.  “You’re too good to us.” 

When she lets go Magnus smiles brightly at her, if a little overwhelmed.

Isabelle leaves them alone in the infirmary with a wave at Magnus and a pointed look at her brother.

Alec had wanted to avoid this.  He doesn’t want to think of his sister hugging Magnus, of his son wanting Magnus to put him to sleep; doesn’t want to think of his own wanting heart.

“Thank you,” Alec says at length. “I’ll be sure the money transfers through.” 

Magnus frowns at him. The room around them is silent now, the air heavy and cold.  “Alexander, when I said I don’t want any money where Max is concerned, I meant it.”

Alec knows he’s being an asshole.  It was one thing this morning when he was reserved and standoffish, but it’s another thing altogether for him to force Magnus’s relationship with his son to be purely professional.

It’s cruel.

But what else is he supposed to do?  With Rafael as freaked out he is, and with Max’s mother back - he  _needs_  Magnus to be on the other side of that line.  He needs to be sure he’s pushed far enough away, so he can’t break their hearts.

“I’m paying you,” Alec says, short and defensive.  He crosses his arms to block himself from Magnus even more, trying to hold himself together with the motion - finds it doesn’t help.

“I do  _not_  accept.” 

“Too bad.  You’re providing a service.  I’m paying you.” 

Magnus sighs.  He sounds so tired.  He’s not wearing any makeup, his hair isn’t done, and his normally styled clothes are replaced with simple silk pyjamas.  Alec had noticed the moment he’d portaled in, but he hadn’t thought about it, and he won’t now.

Magnus had gone straight from his bed and into the Institute without changing, had saved Max’s life, had nearly started  _crying_ —

But Alec  _isn’t thinking about it_.

“There’s just one thing, before I go,” Magnus says, somehow still kind and gentle.  It tugs at Alec’s heartstrings, the feeling of guilt growing.  Why won’t Magnus yell at him? Snap back? Get mean? “You have got to watch Max, Alec.”

“Are you telling me how to raise my kids?”

“No.” Magnus shakes his head; there is no judgment on his face.  “I’m telling you how to raise a Warlock, since you apparently no longer want me around him.”  He clears his throat, his eyes flitting across Alec’s face, in search of something,  _anything_  that isn’t defensive anger.

“Okay.”  Alec clamps his mouth shut and draws himself tall, not looking Magnus in the eyes. “Anything else?”

“Yes.”

He opens a portal.  Alec wonders if he isn’t overusing  _his_  magic, after portaling here and saving Max.

Magnus brings his fingers together, and Alec knows immediately what he’s about to do.  He’s seen the action three times before.

Another rose. 

“ _Don’t,_ ” he says, grabbing Magnus’s wrist to still the spell.  If his expression falters, if his throat starts to feel like it’s closing up and his eyes search every corner of Magnus’s, Alec doesn’t let it change anything.

“Alright,” Magnus says. He drops his hand to his side and walks through the portal without another word.

Alec opens his mouth to say something, almost takes a step forward to follow, but he can’t do that.  It’s too late, anyway.  Magnus is gone.

 

* * *

  

On his way back to his room, Isabelle stops Alec in the corridor.  He knows the leveled look in her eyes, knows he’s about to get chewed out before she even opens her mouth.  She has her arms folded and somehow looks intimidating, even in nothing but a long crimson tshirt. 

“I don’t care what is going on between you and Magnus, Alec. Max _needs_ to be your first priority.”

Alec lets his expressionless face bore down on her.  “He is.”

“Then get over yourself!”  She rounds on him, stepping closer and dropping her arms to her sides.  “Tell Magnus everything he needs to know about Max.”

“There’s nothing—”  
  
“ _Everything_ ,” she says.  “It’s your choice whether to see him or not, Alec. But you have to tell Magnus about Max’s past.  The only reason Magnus even knew anything was because he’s overheard you talk to Max about it and he’s perceptive enough to put things together. But that’s not enough.”  Isabelle’s eyes start to grow wet, but she keeps a solid glare on her brother.  “She could have taken him today, and we’d _never_ find her, Alec.”

Isabelle searches his eyes for a moment, and Alec can feel himself start to break.  Izzy had spent two weeks with Magnus and Max, while Alec had been with the Seelies.  She'd seen them grow closer.  She thinks she understands something Alec doesn't, he realizes.  But she's the one who doesn't get it.

She’s right about one thing, though.  He should have told Magnus weeks ago. 

“You’re right,” he says.  But things are different now.  He can’t just solve all of this by explaining everything to Magnus, Alec needs to do something new to fix the problem.  “I’m taking Max out of the school,” he says.

Isabelle’s eyes widen.  Her lips purse together, jaw tight with the effort.  “You’re _what_?”

Alec uncrosses his arms.  He’s not trying to be defensive.  This is just the only way, the only real solution to the problem.  “He’s too attached, Izzy.”

“So?” 

“So Magnus wont be around forever.”

She looks at him like she’d rather be beating him over the head with his own quiver.   

Alec puts a hand on her arm, trying to explain.  “Max can’t handle it.  If Magnus walks out on him...”

She squints at her brother, jaw still locked in anger. “So you’re going to rip his heart out _now_?”  She shifts her weight onto her other foot, brushing his hand away.  “How do you know Magnus doesn’t want to be part of his life?”

“I _don’t_ know.  That’s the point.”

“Alec…”  Isabelle holds her hands out, palm-up, as if she’s physically handing him her advice. “Just _talk_ to him,” she says.

“And say what?”  Alec raises an eyebrow.  “‘Magnus please be a part of my children's lives until the day they die oh and by the way for one of them that's literally _forever_ ’?”  He scoffs, looking distractedly at the wall before he can look at his sister again.  “He’s not going to say yes to that.”

Isabelle looks at him sadly.  “You’re not even giving him the chance.”  

“I wont risk Max and Raf.”  

 “They don’t need to know,” Isabelle shakes her head, “not until, or _unless_ , Magnus decides to stick around.” She puts a hand on his arm, reflective of his own earlier actions, squeezing slightly.  “Single parents go on dates, Alec. And even if you never date him, Max _needs_ -”  

“I have to stop this before it gets any worse.”  Alec’s gaze drops to their socked feet.  “Raf caught me- he saw-” He lowers his voice, “He saw me almost kiss him, okay?”  The words are so small and Alec can’t look up at his sister as he says them.  He’s mostly embarrassed, has never been the kind of person to kiss and tell, but he can’t ignore that there’s something else.  There’s some part of him that is ashamed. “You should have seen his face, Izzy.  It really freaked him out. And with Max’s mother back… The last thing they need is someone around who might walk out on them.” 

And the only way to avoid that is to get them away from Magnus now, before it gets any worse.

Isabelle studies her brother for a moment.  She’s always been able to read him like an open book, always seems to know him better than he knows himself.  Most of the time he appreciates it, having someone in his life who insites him to face his emotions. Izzy has always pushed him, and honestly, Alec is grateful.  
  
But right now, he's sure she's wrong. 

“Alec, do you think it’s Magnus’s fault Max saw his mother today?”

Alec raises an exaggerated eyebrow, because that seems entirely off topic.  “No.”

“So even though you weren’t there to see it, you don’t blame him?”

“Of course not,” Alec says as if it’s obvious, “Magnus would never-”

He freezes, words caught in his open mouth.

Isabelle smirks at him, leaning her head forward as she encourages: “Would never…?”

Magnus would never hurt Max. 

But it’s not the same thing.  Magnus would never let Max get hurt, but that didn't mean he'd never leave Max. It’s different, somehow.  Isn’t it?

Groaning, Isabelle rubs at her left temple for a moment. “¿Por qué es mi hermano tan estúpido?” she mumbles under her breath.

Then she rounds on Alec, all her anger and frustration flooding forward from her squared shoulders. “ _You’re_ the one who’s scared Alec, not Rafael and Max.  You’re using them as an excuse.” She pokes into his chest with a sharply nailed finger, words crashing over him like a cold wave.  “You’re afraid Magnus won’t want _you_.”

_What?_

“It’s probably a bit of both,” she concedes, drawing her hand back, “I know you put Max and Raf above everything else.”  The hard edges of her eyes and jawline slack then, but only for a beat.  Isabelle folds her arms, holding her elbows and tipping her chin up at Alec.  “But in the end?  You think you’re not good enough.  Which is bullshit - you deserve to be _happy -_  but there you go.”

“No.  I-”

“It’s true.”  She shrugs at him.  “You think there’s no way Magnus could like you and you’re afraid to get your own heart broken, along with the kids, mi hermano.” 

Her words come crashing down on Alec, flooding his head with too much information, too much from his subconscious coming to surface.

He wants to refuse them.  He wants to deny that any part of him would ever use his kids as an excuse to protect himself.  It can’t be true.  He can’t be that detached from his own mind, that unaware of his own feelings.  He can’t be the sort of person who would hurt his own kids, just to save himself; who would take Magnus away from Max because he’s scared of what Magnus staying means for his own heart.

“I… I…” 

Isabelle shuts her door in his face, shouting from the other side of it, “Also, if you take Max out of school I’ll just invite Magnus over all the time, so don’t bother!”  
  
When Alec gets back to his own room, Rafael and Max are in his bed once again.  Rafael is clutching to his little brother, their small chests rising and falling softly.  Alec grips the doorframe.  They’re his whole _world_ —there’s no way his reservations with Magnus aren’t about his sons.

When he does crawl into his own bed, Alec looks over at his side table and sees a simple glass vase that hadn’t been there before.  Inside it are three roses, each one a deep red, the vibrant colour of the petals already sunk permanently into his mind.  Who had found them in his trash?  Isabelle, Jace?  They don’t normally come in here.  

Staring at them with Izzy’s words still reverberating in his head, Alec doesn’t fall asleep for hours.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr! [[link](https://chairmanmeow-and-church.tumblr.com)] 
> 
> Your comments mean so much more to me than you know, thank you. :D


	9. Always On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [Anna](woodsbane.tumblr.com) again. You all seriously owe her, and I owe her and all of you. I would lose interest so fast if it weren't for all the comments and messages. Thank you!

“Keep your head up,” Alec says, ducking behind a hurdle and shooting another fake arrow at his older son.

Rafael whips his eyes up, too late. The arrow makes contact, its suction-cup end sticking harmlessly to his shoulder.  “Frig,” he says, tearing it off.

“Language, Raf.”

“I only said ‘frig.’”

Alec shoots another arrow at him.  This time Rafael’s brown eyes are up, and he ducks down to dodge it easily, scurrying to hide behind a half-wall.  His feet are silent enough that Alec can only barely hear them padding across the rubber floor.

They’re in the largest training room in the Institute, lots of space for an archer.  He’d meant it when he’d promised Raf they’d train together again.

“Better,” Alec says.

Rafael has improved by bounds in the past year, mostly thanks to Jace.  The Academy doesn’t teach sparring until kids are ten years old, but Alec knew his kids needed to be able to defend themselves.  Aside from Max’s mother and anyone prejudiced enough who might attack one or both of them over Max being a Downworlder (or for their father being gay), there is too the possibility of something like another Valentine coming up.  They had all worked impossibly hard to build a safer world, but inevitably someone would come along and try to tear it apart.  If that happens while Max and Raf are alive, Alec wants to make sure they’re ready to handle it.

He also, of course, recognizes the fact that they’re still kids, and keeps the training light and fun.  There is no Valentine, and no one has threatened to hurt them yet – save for Allison – so Alec doesn’t train them the way his parents had trained himself and his siblings.

There’s a faint scrape to his left, and Rafael leaps out from behind a climbing wall.  Alec hadn’t heard him move there.  His white teeth stand out starkly against his brown face as he grins wide, thrusting his seraph blade towards Alec.

But Alec steps back, easily avoiding the attack. For a moment Raf is confused, wondering why his blade hadn’t touched his father; then he shakes himself out of it and lunges again, bringing the sword to Alec’s left side.

He’s trying to make sure Alec can’t run away on him.  “An archer is at a disadvantage up close,” he says, smiling at Rafael even as he makes another swing at his dad, “Good work.”

“But I can’t _hit_ you,” Rafael says, missing again.  He’s not a very patient person, and is a perfectionist on top of that.  It’s a difficult combination to live with, Alec knows, especially as a child.  Isabelle was the same when they’d trained together growing up.

“You will, someday.”  He crouches down, wanting to make sure this gets through Rafael’s thick skull.  “Your fine motor skills aren’t finished growing, and I’m more than three times your age.  It’s not a fair fight.”

Rafael puts a hand on his hip.  Wearing black workout pants and a loose white tshirt, he looks a little out of place to Alec, who is more used to seeing him in his polos, blazers, and too-big button ups; colourful skinny-legged pants, suede shoes and fitted tanks; rings, necklaces, and the occasional dark brown eyeliner.

It’s always been fine for Alec —  for all of them.  It’s honestly weirder to see Rafael without all the decoration.

“You sure?”

Alec smiles, and reaches behind him into his quiver.  Pulling an arrow out, he grins without showing his teeth, and sticks the plunger end of it onto Rafael’s forehead.  “I’m sure,” Alec says as he does so.

Rafael maintains a forced frown for all of two seconds before he snorts, looks up at the arrow pointing out of his head, and dissolves into laughter.  He stops for a moment but then spots the arrow again and breaks down, laughing so hard he grips onto his dad’s arms to keep himself up.

Alec watches the stupid-looking shaft of the arrow bob up and down with his son’s heaving giggles and starts laughing too.  He falls onto his bottom helplessly, Rafael collapsing with him, arrow bouncing as he goes.

It isn’t all that funny—Alec knows they’re both laughing more to relieve stress than anything.  But he hasn’t seen Rafael look this happy in days.

“Dad- Dad-” Rafael tries, “You gotta - ” he curls over, laugher rolling through him in heavy waves, “take it off, I- I- I can’t _breathe_.”

Alec reaches up to do so, because it _is_ becoming a little much, but as he pulls he can’t get the arrow off.

“Ow, ow, oh my god-” Rafael falls forward with the force as Alec tugs on the arrow, still laughing.

Alec tries to hold himself together, to regain control of his contracting lungs, but watching his son laugh is beyond infectious and he breaks down into another fit of giggles all his own.

“ _Why_.”  Rafael looks at him, happy tears gathering under his eyes.

“I dunno,” Alec says.  He takes a huge breath of air, a few laughs stuttering as he breathes it back out.  “I didn’t—”

His phone rings.

Alec looks down at the caller.  It’s the Seelie Queen.  When he looks back up at Rafael, his son isn’t smiling anymore.

“I’ll be right back.”

Raf rolls his eyes.  “Right.  Bye, Dad.”

“I mean it.”  Alec reaches out to card a hand through black hair as he stands up.  “I’ll be back.”

 

* * *

 

Magnus can feel his disquieting nerves spike as he waves open a portal, stepping through to the New York Institute.

Isabelle had called him this morning and asked if he could come in and check on Max.  And it doesn’t matter if Alec doesn’t want him around.  Even if Alec told him not to, Magnus would still go.  He needs to be sure Max is alright.

Isabelle streams an arm through his when he exits the portal, meeting her in a living room down the hall from her own.  Her smile is as big and bright as ever.  He supposes objectively she’s the prettier Lightwood, and anyone would be lucky to get lost in her curves, but Magnus no longer has an objective opinion.  He’d first seen Alec with Isabelle present, and Magnus had hardly remembered her after the fact.

Now, however, she is quite dear to his heart.  She’s loud, has a sense of humour as venereal as his own, and doesn’t take shit from anyone.

Least of all her brother, evidently.

“Hello, my dear,” he says with an easy smile.

She grins back at him.  “Has Alec figured out that you can portal in and out of any part of the Institute yet?”

“He has not and if you care for me at all, Isabelle, you won’t tell him.”  Magnus likes their walks from the subbasement to the entryway.  So _many_ possibilities.  

Or there had been, before.

Isabelle laughs and tells him he’s terrible.

“How is Max?”  He asks.

Isabelle begins walking them down the hall.  “He’s fine, I think.  I just want to be sure." She smiles at Magnus. "And I may have another reason for asking you to come here.”  She winks at him and he pretends to be scandalized.  He is a little surprised—while she does come across as someone who sticks her nose into other people’s business, he wonders if it isn't too much for her to invite Magnus over if Alec doesn't want to see him.  Maybe it’s different with Alec, though.  He isn’t the kind of man who takes well to being pushed, but maybe Isabelle knows how to push to get him to move, maybe it's just all she knows.  “But you wanted to tell my brother you’re going to check up on Max, right?  He’s training with Raf.”

Magnus had thought it only right that he tell Alec, and not show up behind his back.

She stops them outside two large black metal doors, three floors down from the living quarters.  She takes one of his hands.  Her palms are rough from fighting, the rest smooth, her nails a brighter red than his.  “Magnus, I want to say something.”  He nods and waits, trusting it to be information he's allowed to hear, nothing Alec would want kept private.  “Alec has a switch and it is _always_ on.  He puts himself and what he wants last.  Always.  Every time.”

Magnus had noticed.

“But Max needs you.” She grips his hand. "My brother might not see it yet, but I do. Okay?"

Magnus doesn't know what to say to that. It doesn't much matter, does it? If Alec doesn't want him around, then aside from being sure Max isn't near-death again, Magnus won't be around. No matter what he himself feels for Max, or is starting to for Alexander.

After a long look at him, Isabelle puts a hand on one of the doors, pushing them open.

Inside is a large training room, rubber floor with foam mats, hurdles and workout equipment and a whole array of practice weapons.

Near the center of it is Rafael, swinging his blade in a sharp curve.  Isabelle leads them to a railing where they can watch, putting a finger over her lips to signal Magnus to stay silent.

Rafael has a grace beyond his years, nearly dancing as he moves the seraph blade in a sweeping arc.  Magnus isn’t surprised.  There’s grace in the way he holds himself, the way he walks, and in the way he articulates, pronouncing every syllable of every word.  He simply fights the same as he is, uses the blade like a reflection of his personality.

Magnus doesn’t know Rafael much at all, but that he’s as remarkable as his father is no surprise.

When he stops, following a downward strike, Magnus whistles.  Alarmed, the eldest of Alec’s children turns to face them, eyes narrowing when they land on Magnus.

“Stylish _and_ deadly,” Magnus says, leaning over the rail. “A devastating combination.”

Brown eyes waver for a moment, far more obvious than their father’s, and a faint red spreads across his dark cheeks.

“Hey mijo,” Isabelle says, walking them both down to meet Rafael on the rubber mat he’d been practicing on.  “Where’s your dad?”

“Phone call.”  Magnus can see the shine in his brown eyes deplete, filling with a resigned sadness. “Said he’d be back.” He narrows his eyes at the two of them, analyzing where Magnus is concerned.  “What do you need him for?”

“I’m going to ask him if I may check in on your brother,” Magnus says.

Rafael looks at his aunt.  “Did something else happen?”

“No, Raf,” Isabelle says, “But we want to be sure Max is okay.”

His shoulders relax.  His whole stance relaxes.  He seems to hold tension the same way his father does.  “Whatever.”  Rafael hits the end of his blade against his foot, watching it.  “Good, then.”

“What were you two working on?”  Isabelle asks.

Rafael side-eyes Magnus.  Magnus smiles kindly back at him.  Considering how Alec’s older son had reacted last night, and his scrutinizing glances now, it would appear Rafael isn’t at all comfortable with him.  And that’s enlightening—Is this what has Alexander wrapping his heart up and locking it away?

Rafael will not like him if he doesn’t like him.  Magnus has no notions otherwise.  There is no ‘winning kids over.’  They _are_ people, despite how culture at large views them, not pets you can win the favor of with treats.

But Magnus would no sooner hurt Alec’s older son than his younger, no matter if he hated Magnus.  He would never hurt any child, but especially not the ones of the man he…

Likes quite a lot, at least.

“Just some drills,” Rafael says.  He side-eyes Magnus again, then looks at his blade.  “Dad should be back in a minute.”

 

* * *

 

When Alec arrives back in the training room, his heart concaves almost to the point of turning inside out, because he hadn’t thought he’d see Magnus so soon.  The bronze skin on his neck stretches like the long shores of a sanded beach during sunset, darker than the day and warm under your skin.  Alec takes a breath like he’d nearly drowned – where had that come from? – collecting himself before he walks fully into the room.

“Magnus.”  The relief that comes with saying his name is making it harder for Alec to act annoyed by his presence. “Why are you here?”

He watches the ease in his glamoured eyes turn into hurt.  Alec is hurting him, over and over; he feels sick from it.

“Isabelle asked me to check up on Max.  I thought I should be sure it was alright with you, as well.”

Alec can’t think of what to say.  Why isn’t Magnus angry? Why is he so accommodating?  Alec knows he does not treat everyone like this.  Even in the midst of whatever they’re doing, Magnus is too good for him.  Alec rocks on his feet only marginally, not enough to be noticed, and gets lost in eyes as strange and unknown to him as black holes.

Rafael looks between his father and his brother’s teacher.  “I’ll take you,” he says, after a pause he does not fully understand.  Then he looks at his dad, studying the stifled, miserable expression on his face.  “Okay?”

Alec shakes himself away from Magnus.  It’s like pulling off wet clothes.  He nods at Rafael, because they should go check on Max, no matter what else.

“Oh well I’m honoured, little Shadowhunter.”  Magnus smiles down at Alec’s oldest son.  “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

Max is lying in his bed, chatting adamantly with his Noxious Vine when Alec, Magnus, and Raf walk in.  Max is overcome with joy at getting to see Magnus even though he stayed home from school today and thought he wasn’t going to.  Sparks literally fly off him, purple and lilting and dancing on his shoulders until Magnus picks him up.

“You need to control that, blueberry.”

“I can’t I can’t I’m too excited!!”  He looks at his father and brother and then back at Magnus.  “What’s everyone doing here?”

“Just making sure you’re alright.”

“Are you gonna stay- stay- stay for dinner?”  Max asks, bounding in Magnus’s arms he’s so giddy.  Still talking, he reaches out for Alec, “Aunt Izzy isn’t cooking, don’t worry.” Magnus passes him over with a smile so fond it makes Alec’s head spin.

“No,” Magnus says, “I’m just here to check in on you.  How do you feel?”

A purple spark of magic runs off of Max, surging into Alec through his arm.  It feels warm, and spreads out over his chest.  “Sorry Dad, sometimes I can’t… It- It… I’m happy and it just happens.”

Max looks like he thinks he’s done something wrong.  Alec kisses him on the temple.  “It’s fine.”  He clears his throat, somehow embarrassed about saying this in front of Magnus.  Except ‘embarrassed’ isn’t right—it’s more like he feels suddenly shy, like Magnus might pull hidden meanings from his words, not that it matters. Max needs to know that it’s okay, for him to use his magic. “I want you to share your magic with me, Max.  Okay?  You don’t need to hide it.”

“Okay,” he says, a joyful smile forming.

“Answer Magnus’s question.”

Max looks at his teacher, fingers digging into Alec’s shoulders.  “I feel fine.  Just sleepy.”

“Dizzy at all?”

“Nope.”

“Cold?”

“Nuh huh.”

Magnus lets out a breath, his stance relaxing with it.  Alec is overcome with the abrupt and jarring urge to hand Max back over to him, by way of comfort.

He doesn’t do it.

“Alright, I’m all done then,” Magnus says.  And Alec knows he’s leaving so soon because he thinks Alec doesn’t want him there.  That Magnus is respecting his wishes for his kids, his boundaries.

“You’re _leaving_?” Max pouts.

Rafael frowns.

 

* * *

 

He walks Magnus into the hall, shutting the door with Max and Rafael inside the room.  They’re alone in the long wood-paned corridor.  He can faintly hear Max and Raf talking, Max laughing at something his brother’s said, Magnus’s even breathing, his own heart hauling blood as if it’s a chore, laboured and tired.

There are so many things Alec wants to say.  There are so many more he _should_ say.  Thank Magnus – honestly this time – for saving Max; apologize for trying to force him to accept payment.

He doesn’t do any of that.

“I’m taking Max out of your classes,” he says.  “And I don’t think…” His throat closes tight, and Alec feels water build in his eyes.  “I don’t want you to come back here.”

Alec barely means it.  He’s hardly holding onto his resolve.  He wonders how convincing he sounds, if at all.  A million thoughts run through his mind, from Magnus giving him roses to holding Max, unlocking his magic, to the way he looks at Alec like he’s never seen anything like him, how dark and yielding his eye get when they’re alone.

But it doesn’t change anything.

“Alec, whatever it is,” Magnus says, his words flying out in a desperation too unnerved, too unlike this man that Alec barely knows, “you can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says, folding his arms like he always seems to need to now, around Magnus, “I just think he’d do better with a different teacher.”

It hurts and Alec can see it sink into Magnus, the prick of steeled pain cutting deep. Magnus seems to fold in on himself, as if he’s been hurt like this before and has a defense in place for it.

“Ever the perfect father, Alexander.”  He rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves, acting like he doesn’t care.  It dawns on Alec that now they’re _both_ putting up a pretense.  “Shall I put you in contact with other Warlocks?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright.”  Magnus nods.  He parts his lips to say something more, but shuts them as his eyes begin to grow wet.

Alec has never hated himself more than he does right now.  How many times has he hurt him in the last twenty-four hours?  How can he just stand here and watch Magnus slowly unravel, do nothing and worse than that, be the _cause_ of it?

It has to be for his kids.

When Magnus walks away, Alec sees him bring a hand up to wipe at his eyes, and despite _everything_ he starts to wonder what would happen if he ran after him and turned him around and kissed every single tear away.

Instead, heart as thick and weighed down as every ocean on Earth, Alec slumps against Max’s bedroom door until the roaring pain in his chest dulls to a now-familiar drone.


	10. It Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [bleedingoptimism](http://bleedingoptimism.tumblr.com/) for the Spanish. Thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) for editing. :) 
> 
> I didn't use the Seelie Queen from the books, I hardly remember the books.

 

 

 

 

 

Max cries when Alec tells him he’s not going back to Magnus’s school.  Every piece of porcelain dishware in the kitchen shatters, an uncontrolled vibration from his magic ringing throughout the dark room.

He doesn’t talk to Alec for five days.

Rafael only shrugs at his father, looking unaffected for a moment before he studies his face and asks, “But what about Max?”

Alec does his best to explain, but Rafael doesn’t seem to understand.  He just keeps looking sadly at his brother and scrutinizing Alec’s face, searching for something.

Isabelle purses her lips and glares and says, her voice as fierce as it is when they’re out hunting demons, “You can ruin your own life as much as you want, Alec, but you have no right to do this to Max.”

Why doesn’t she understand?  Why does no one understand that this is all to protect Max?  _And_ Rafael.

Alec spends the next week almost entirely wrapped up in Fairfolk politics.  While it has always worn on him, he finds it especially draining now.

He arrives back at the Institute late one Friday night from another day with the Seelie Queen, head pounding from nixie wine and the lingering smell of smoke that sticks to his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them.  It’s not too late—only eight pm or so—and Jace is in the kitchen when he enters, reading, of all things, a Faerie magazine.

“Wow,” he says, dropping the magazine a little to look at Alec, “Dude, you look like shit.”

Alec sweeps his eyes in an upward arch, walking over to the fridge.  “Thanks.”  He opens it and grabs the jug of water, pouring himself a glass.  With none of the typical Shadowhunter elegance he flops into the chair across from his brother, and takes a drink.

“Seriously, Alec.”  Jace puts the magazine down.  “You okay?”

He drains the glass.  “Fine,” he says, “Just tired of faeries.”

“The Seelie Queen still won’t sign the treaty?” Jace asks.  Alec shakes his head.  “Why?”

Alec shrugs.  He honestly doesn’t know.  The peace treaty doesn’t put the Fairfolk in any danger or at any disadvantage.  All it does is require them, along with every other Downworlder and Shadowhunter, to keep peace and share resources.  The Seelies have access to a lot of materials Warlocks need for potions and spells, Shadowhunters and many Downworlders use Warlock magic constantly—it’s all only meant to be a thing of convenience, not misuse or hardship.

At least she seems to have stopped trying to court him, though she still sometimes mentions her son.

“You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”  Jace asks

Alec’s eyebrows bow.  “Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Right,” his brother says with a dip of his chin and squinting eyes.  He stares at Alec for a moment, studying him.  Alec wants to snap at him to fuck off—bites it back.  He won’t take his exhaustion out on his brother.

Jace says, “You know you can always talk to me.”

“I know.”  Alec taps at the empty glass with his fingers. Creeping slowly like a sickness unnoticed until it’s too late, silence fills the room.  Alec doesn’t know what to do with it.  He keeps tapping at his glass, slouched in his chair, his long legs invading his brother’s space.  They take up most of the underside of the small table.  There is a larger kitchen, one floor up, but the three of them generally use this one.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says eventually.  Alec looks up.  “Really, Jace.” 

The blond shrugs, smiling, but his multi-coloured eyes are sad.  “If you say so man.”  He takes the glass from Alec when he stands, putting a hand on his back.  “Are you coming to the dress rehearsal?”

The Seelies had graciously given him the day off, so Alec nods.  “Yeah.”

“Good.”  Jace smiles again, patting him on the back.  “Raf is out like a light, but I think Max is still awake if you want to put him to bed.”

Alec leaves the kitchen a few minutes later.  Each step he takes along the hall feels dragging, sluggish, as if every event of the day were pulling down at his ankles.  He can normally leave it behind when he gets home, even after a long day.  But lately everything bad seems to stick.  All of it leaches in under his skin, packing itself densely around his muscles and seeping into his blood.  Nothing shakes it off, nothing erodes it, nothing breaks it apart. Alec can’t breathe with the weight of it.

He knocks on Max’s door as he calls, “Max?”

His blue son is sitting on his bed, staring at something clasped in his lap.  His Noxious Vine. It’s wilted and dying, bright green now a faded darkening grey.

“Time for bed,” Alec says.

Max turns endlessly heavy blue eyes up at him.  “Okay.”  He crawls under the covers and shuts his eyes.  No argument, no request for a story, no hug, nothing.  Alec tries to swallow, but a lump forms in his throat at his son’s lifeless expression.

Max had always been so happy, before.  Pretty much from the day he met Magnus until the day Alec kicked him out of their lives, Max had been beaming. A confidence Alec had only ever seen teeming down in his subconscious bloomed into the forefront.  Max had made friends at school.  He’d challenged himself with new magic.  He’d started to call the Institute ‘home’ when he talked about it.

Now he barely speaks.  Has no energy.  Doesn’t try to hug anyone.

Alec knew it would be like this.  But it’s better for it to happen now, before Max got anymore attached.  It would only be worse, later.

He hadn’t expected it to last this long though—nearly two full weeks—or for Max to look just as washed-out and drooping as his Noxious Vine.

Even though Max doesn’t seem to notice, Alec leans down and kisses him on his blue hair.

He makes for Rafael’s room next, just in case he’s still up.  He hasn’t been much happier than Max, though that isn’t what worries Alec.  Rafael is never happy when Max isn’t.

The weird thing is that Raf isn’t any more relaxed now that Magnus is gone.  He’s still tense.  He still studies Alec with a careful, deciphering gaze.  Where Max is stagnant and slouched, Rafael is restless and nervous.  He needs to talk to him, to ask his son what’s been going through his head, all this time.

But he’s asleep when Alec opens his door.

Sighing, Alec drags his feet to his own room, exhaustion settling over him like a laden layer of dust.  He doesn’t bother changing, brushing his teeth, or washing his face. Finds he just doesn’t care.

When he gets into bed, there’s a letter sitting on the side he doesn’t sleep on.  He recognizes the intricate seal by now.  He lies down and opens it.

_Alec Lightwood,_

_This is a formal request from the Faerie Court for our Queen to be your second at Isabelle Lightwood and Clarissa Fairchild’s wedding. We would furthermore request that she attend this week’s dress rehearsal.  As these events are to take place on Seelie territory, we trust your response will be affirmative in its nature._

It’s signed with a Seelie mark Alec can’t read.

Even on his day off he’s going to have Faeries to deal with, then.  Well, whatever.  Work is work.

Before he falls asleep, he thinks of Max’s lightless eyes, and the strain that’s still in Rafael’s shoulders.

 _It’ll get better_ , Alec tells himself,  _in time._  It has to.  Alec made this choice to help his sons, not hurt them.

 

* * *

 

Rafael and Clary had really outdone themselves with the venue, and Alec isn’t the sort of person who ever notices these things—unless he’s taken away by them.  The meadow is a lively light green with spots of wild flowers, purple and blue in colour.  The trees outlining the small opening in the Seelie forest are willows, low and hanging branches and swooping leaves swaying like long curtains in the wind.  There are lights strung through the willows, though it’s daytime now so they’re not lit.

The archway the brides will walk under is white.  Tangled along its top are purple vines, their flowers small and dainty.  The walkway is lined with Faerie lights that Alec swears he’s seen somewhere before—tiny orbs which give off a glow as soft as moonlight through fog.

White chairs are seated along the grass.  There are a lot more than Alec had imagined.  It looks like Clary really had invited the Werewolves and Vampires along with the Faeries and both her and Isabelle’s respective families.  Alec’s mother is going to pass out.

At least it’ll be interesting.

A little way away from the walkway and stage, tables are still being set up for dining.  Long white tablecloths with the same vines that are on the arch sit scattered across the grass. More small orbed faerie lights are placed at their centers.  
  
There's a large empty patch of grass where, Alec is told, the Faeries are going to set up an indoor venue, along with overnight housing for the brides and any family that wish to stay.  A night in the Seelie realm is a gift the Fairfolk don't offer everyone, so the Shadowhunters had accepted.  Alec is just relieved to see all their efforts paying off, to see that the people in their world can find a way to trust each other.

“Like it?” Clary is asking him, taking Alec from his thoughts. Her arm runs up against his as she speaks.  “Rafael did most of the planning. I know you’re not huge on mundanes, but there are a few design schools he could go to.”

Rafael and Max are across the meadow, showing Jace the crystalline lights in the trees.  Alec watches them and thinks this is the first time he’s seen them remotely back to normal.

“You okay, Alec?”  Clary asks after he doesn’t respond.

“Yeah.”

The Seelie Queen arrives a few minutes later, her guard in tow.  Her dark skin shines like a black diamond in the morning sunlight, red hair falling down her shoulders like a never-ending waterfall.  She’s beautiful, you’d have to be dead not to notice, and even then it would be hard to miss. 

“Greetings, Alec Lightwood.” She always calls him by his full name.  He nods at her, taking her hand and leading her towards the stage.  “You Shadowhunters certainly can decorate,” she says, looking around the meadow.

“Raf designed it,” he replies, feeling proud.

He walks them to the stage, standing in his spot.  The Seelie Queen had demanded to be part of the wedding party, which Alec thinks is about fifteen different levels of pretentious and audacious, but this  _is_ Seelie ground.  Maybe it’s a cultural thing.  He tries not to think too hard, when it comes to Faeries.

They stand around and wait for Clary and Isabelle to show up.  They’re busy with organizing and had texted Jace, saying they'd be about twenty minutes late.  

Raf and Max are sitting on the steps of the stage, waiting.  Their heads are in their hands and their elbows on their knees, the two of them staring at the ground.  Jace is talking with them, but they don’t lift their heads.  They’re watching the lights lining the brides’ walkway.

Gazing at them too, Alec suddenly realizes where he’s seen these Faerie lights before.

The Seelie Queen says, “Are you entirely alright, Alec Lightwood?”

Why is everyone asking him that?  He’s  _fine_.

* * *

  
When Clary and Isabelle arrive, they run through the wedding three times, quick and candidly.  Rafael hurries over to fix chairs and rearrange tablecloths, flowers, and even Isabelle’s hair a few times.  He’s doing it to distract himself, Alec knows.  From what, he doesn’t let himself wonder—though he knows that, too.

They call it a wrap by late afternoon.  Clary kisses Isabelle, then bends down to do the same to Raf and Max on their cheeks.  Raf would normally pretend to hate it, and Max would normally giggle and give her about three kisses back.

None of this happens.  They smile smally at her, accepting her affection as if it’s nothing more than a gentle breeze on their faces.

“You’ll have to excuse my persistence,” the Seelie Queen says.  Everyone starts bustling around them, talking and returning to set up tables and décor.  Her hands find one of his—she is always a little physical.  At first it had annoyed him, but after weeks and weeks in her company, Alec is surprising himself by starting not to mind.  “You seem  _upset_ , Shadowhunter.”

Alec balls his free hand into a fist, trying to not let his irritation show. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she says, stating a simple truth. “Please, I always have an open ear for you.”

He thinks about denying it, avoiding it, shoving it further down into the locked vaults of his head.  It’s been  _three weeks_.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening.  Why everything seems to still be falling apart, but in a whole different way, a much, much worse one.

Alec turns to face her, but glares off into the willow trees in the distance.  “I’m doing everything I should be doing.  I’m being so  _careful_ —” He drops her hand, shrinking back a little, “—but it just seems to turn on me.  It’s like I screw up the harder I try.  And… I… It’s like no matter what I do, I make someone unhappy.  Or everyone.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, the Seelie Queen speaks, “You think you can control things, Shadowhunter?  The heart wants what it wants, and it  _wants_ , Alec Lightwood.  There is no escape from that.”

“But,” he tugs at one of his shirt’s cuffs, looking at her entirely-white eyes, “if you know it’s only going to be bad, later, why let it want at all?”

She smiles and shakes her head at him.  “There is no ‘let.’” The Queen takes his hand again, and places it over her own heart.  Alec can feel it beating.  “You do not give permission to Love, demon hunter, you open the door and hope it does not kill you,” she says, releasing his hand.

He snorts softly. “You must be fun at parties.”

He’s not sure, but he thinks she smiles.

“Try following your heart, not your mind.”

“I am.”  He’s looking out for his kids.

“No—you are following what you  _think_ your heart  _should_ want.  What you think is noble.”  She looks over at Max and Rafael, who are sitting forlornly at a table with Clary.  “Ignore ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘logical.’  What is your heart really after?  It knows the answer, Alec Lightwood, it knows what you need to do.”

Hs heart is just heavy, sick, and drained.  “I don’t know what it wants.”

“You do.”  She nods towards his sons.  “It’s in the lost eyes of your children.”

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Alec is sitting with Max and Raf on a long couch in the living room they typically use to watch movies.  It’s morning.  Alec has no Seelie Court to deal with today, no duties at all.  It’s the weekend, so Rafael doesn’t have school, and Alec still hasn’t found—hasn’t even looked—for a new place to send Max.

It’s a Saturday.

Saturdays had been tutoring days.

Max slumps over, crashing against Alec’s arm.  He whines, high and frustrated, into the sleeve of Alec’s shirt.

Rafael frowns at nothing in particular and sighs, kicking his feet at the front side of the couch.

Alec has to fight the urge to twiddle his thumbs.  The agitation can be felt in the air, the discontentment infecting every corner of the room like a drop of red dye in a glass of water.  It spreads and the colour darkens, the more you add, until it’s a deep red and nothing can be done to make it clear again.

Magnus has been gone for weeks, but his absence has only gotten louder.  In his kids’ hearts and, if Alec is being honest, in his own.

“Feel like going to the park?” Alec asks, trying to sound interested.

Rafael crosses one leg over the other and sinks into the couch.  “No.”

“Picnic?”

Max replies next, the word muffled against Alec’s arm, “No.”

“Training?” He tries again, voice strained.

“No,” his kids say in the same breath.

They don’t feel like doing anything.  And honestly?

Neither does Alec.

It isn’t getting any easier.  The hole Magnus had left is only getting bigger.  Max is getting more wilted, Rafael more irritated, and Alec is starting to think maybe he’s the biggest idiot in the world.

 _The heart wants what it wants, and it_ wants, _Alec Lightwood_.  He hadn’t really understood what the Seelie Queen had meant at the time, but he’s starting to, now.

Clary enters the living room a few minutes later, freezing on the spot when she sees them on the couch.  They’re a pathetic sight. “Are you guys okay?” She asks.

Alec and Rafael both look up at her, silent and unblinking.

Max, however, immediately bursts into tears.

“We-” he heaves, “We-” heaves again, “We m-m-miss-” Unable to finish, Max erupts into a hurried flood, water falling incessantly from eyes.  It’s the first time he’s cried since Alec told him he wouldn’t see Magnus again.  It’s a screeching, loud cry, akin to his breakdowns but not quite one.

Rafael plugs his ears, scowling as he finishes for his brother, “Magnus.”

Max cries louder at hearing his name.

“Okay,” Clary starts, putting her hands on her hips and looking at them sternly, “This?  This is ridiculous.  You three have been moping around the Institute for _three weeks_.”  It feels a little like his mother is scolding him.  Alec feels more than a little like he deserves it.  “Get up.  I’m taking you out.”

Alec doesn’t argue.  He gathers the sobbing Max into his arms, tugs Rafael up off the couch, and they follow Clary out the door.

She takes them for milkshakes. The restaurant is owned and run by a Werewolf in Luke’s pack named Julius.  Max and Rafael order two giant shakes, strawberry and peach-mango respectively, and though Max stiffens slightly when the server lists ‘blueberry’ as an option, they are comparatively happier.  They nestle into the tall stools and drink, slight smiles spreading over the mouths.

“Comfort food,” Clary says, nodding towards his kids.

Alec used to hate Clary, when she’d first stumbled into their lives.  It’s a long story that has more to do with his sister falling in love with her than anything else.  Now, watching the first momentary glimpse of happiness on Max’s and Rafael’s faces, Alec can’t believe he ever didn’t adore her.

“Alec.”  She nudges him with her bony elbow, stirring her own milkshake.  “Talk to me.  Why’d you do it?”

Isabelle had never made good on her threat to invite Magnus over.  Or maybe she had, and Magnus had refused.  Alec doesn’t want to think about it.

“For them,” he says, nodding at Max and Raf.

Clary fills in all the blanks on her own.  “But they miss him, now.  And it’s been weeks.”

“Max does.”  He looks at his milkshake, voice quieter, “I do.” Back to a normal volume, “But Rafael…”

Nothing’s really changed there, has it?  Rafael would still be a mess if Alec started seeing someone.  He still has trust issues he’s too young to deal with.  He still wants his world small, just the people and family he already knows.

Clary says, “He’s not any happier with him gone, Alec.”

The words echo in his head.

“That’s…” He lets his eyes drift over to Rafael, sat a few seats away, the smile on his mouth slowly fading.  He’s looking at his brother, concern washing out his normally strong features.

“You’re right,” Alec says, rubbing at his mouth.  A sinking feeling grinds into his stomach.

Rafael isn’t any better, and Max is  _worse._

“Fuck, Clary,” Alec says with sharp, vibrating breath.  He buries his face in his hands, wishing his milkshake was something stronger, something he could hide himself in.  A small hand rubs at his back.  “What did I  _do_?”

 

* * *

 

Alec waits until later that night to talk to Rafael.  He doesn’t want Max to hear any of it, and he’s taken to sleeping in Raf’s bed lately.  Ever since Magnus left.

Whatever else, Alec knows he needs to find out what’s going on in his older son’s head.

“Raf?”  He whispers, walking into the room.  The sunken feeling hasn’t left his stomach since his talk with Clary.

Rafael is pulling blankets over Max.  He blinks up at Alec.  “Dad?”

“Hey.”  He sits on the bed, putting a finger over his lips to tell Rafael not to wake Max.  “I need to talk to you.”  He sweeps the hair across Rafael’s dark forehead, moving it from his eyes.  “I think I probably should’ve done it awhile ago.”

“Okay,” Raf says, unsure and nervous.

Alec thinks,  _I did that, I did that to him_.  “I need to ask you some stuff, and it won’t be easy, but…” He slides his hand to Raf’s shoulder.  “What do you think about-”

There’s a momentum in the room.  A budding build-up, Raf’s tiny lungs filling with anxious air and an effervescent elasticity in his nerves as he tries, harder than he should need to, to look his dad in the eye. 

“Dad.”  Rafael sniffs.  Alec knows that means he’s holding back tears. “Did you send him away because of-” he stops, his inhale sharp.  Alec finds himself unable to answer, too abashed by the guilt in his son’s eyes.  Rafael casts them down at his brother.  “I don’t-” his voice cracks high and Alec pretends not to notice but it’s the hardest thing in the world, “I don’t hate him.” He means Magnus. His gaze stays on Max. “I was worried… I thought Magnus was…”

Alec watches Rafael’s hand cling to his little brother’s hair.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Alec is an  _idiot_.  He’s the blindest person in the whole world. 

Rafael might’ve been jealous that Magnus was taking up Alec’s time, might’ve been afraid of letting someone new into their lives, but more than that, more than  _anything_ , Rafael is scared of Max leaving them again.  He’s afraid of someone taking his brother away, of tearing his family apart again.  Max used to be taken out of their lives at any random instant, gone, the hallways empty of his laughter and padding footsteps. 

And the only other Warlock Rafael knows is Allison.  Of course he’d think Magnus was going to hurt Max.  Why would he assume any differently?  Alec hadn’t given him a chance to learn otherwise.

Max had gotten to know Magnus, but Rafael hadn’t.

“Raf,” Alec says.  “Magnus wasn’t going to take Max away.  He’s—He’s a friend,” Alec hopes anyway. “He cares about Max.  He just wanted to help him.”

“I know that now.”  Rafael picks at a loose thread on his socks.  “He saved Max.”  He looks at his father. “ _Twice_.  It’s… whatever.”

“What’s whatever?” Alec asks, not following.

“You know.”  He twirls a hand in the air in a way that is strikingly familiar.  “If you want to date him.”

“What?”

Rafael rolls his eyes.  “I’m not stupid, Dad.  I saw you almost kiss, remember?”  Alec’s face goes a little red. “So are you gonna ask him out?”

“I think he’s pretty mad at me right now.”

“So?”  And with all the simplicity of youth Rafael says, “ _Apologize_. Duh.”

 

* * *

 

After Rafael is asleep, Alec leaves and heads for the training room.  He doesn’t know what he’s doing, really.  He doesn’t understand the quick switch from doing what he thinks his heart should want to doing what it really wants.  He’s never followed it like this—never given himself over to an emotion, a feeling, with disregard to reality and resolve and the fact that it’s not a smart thing to do.

But screw it.  Screw  _this_.

Both of his kids are miserable.

 _He’s_ miserable. 

Enough is enough.

“Izzy?”

She takes one look at him and then turns her head, socking a solid, shattering punch into a punching bag.  “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”  She sends another punch flying.  Alec thinks she’s probably imagining his head in place of the bag.

Alec walks over to her.  He’s nervous because he doesn’t know how to say everything he’s thinking, has never been good with words and hardly understands it himself.  But if there’s one person he won’t keep anything from, who deserves to hear this, it’s his sister.

“Look, Izzy—”

“You know what?  I  _do_ want to talk to you.”  She smacks the punching bag.  “How could you tell Magnus not to come back here?  After everything he’s done!” She rears back and strikes again, the dull thud reaching to grasp at Alec’s chest.

“I—”

“I get that you’re scared, Alec,” a one-two punch, “but you’re making a huge mistake.”

“You—”

“I mean have you  _seen_ Max lately?  He’s depressed!” 

“Iz—” 

“And Rafael is no better.  Do you think he can’t see how this is affecting Max?”

“I—”

Isabelle turns, finally facing him.  Her dark eyes are angry, lit with a fire that out-burns her siblings’ a thousand fold.  But they’re also pleading, concerned, have a layered depth that has Alec remembering just how beautiful his sister is.

“I _know_ they're your kids, okay? And I know I stick my nose into everything too much but-" But Alec understands: Izzy had always been a big part of their lives, and she's been watching Max and Rafael fall apart for weeks now. "How could you take him away from Max?”

Guilt expands through him, but Alec is suddenly struck with how glad he is that Izzy is getting married to someone she loves.  She deserves everything.  This whole time he’d thought it was him looking after Max’s best interests—and he had meant to.  But really, it was Isabelle who’d had her head on right.

“How could you take Max away from  _him_?  You have to know by now that Magnus loves him."  She turns back to the punching bag, hands raising to strike. "Honestamente Alec eres un idiota si no puedes verlo. ¿No ves la forma en que lo abraza? ¿Cómo si fuera su propio hijo? Porque demonios es mi hermano tan estúpidamente ciego-”

“Izzy!”  Alec grabs her upper arms, turning her back to him.  “You were right.”  He can’t stop himself from smiling at the dumbfounded expression on her face.  “I’m an idiot, okay?  I never should have told him to leave.”

She blinks twice, almost comically confused, the sound of the ventilation system suddenly loud in their ears.

“You…”  She looks at Alec curiously for a moment longer.  His face gets hot and it must go a little red, because Isabelle’s expression snaps to understanding at the sight of it and she breaks into a full-blown grin.  “Oh  _Alec_!”  She punches him on the arm, gently enough, still grinning.  “It’s about  _time_ , big brother.”

Rubbing at the spot, Alec smiles at her.  Isabelle wraps him in a hug, squeezing him so hard Alec can’t breathe for a moment.  “I knew you’d come around, I knew.” She pulls back, keeping her hands on his torso.  “But what are you going to say to Magnus?”

He has no idea.

 

* * *

 

Alec falls into his bed without grace, without eloquence, without any energy left in him but somehow with all the energy in the universe bursting in his bones.  His lets his eyes lag on the red roses. He thinks about each smile Magnus had given him along with each rose, his fingers behind Alec’s ear making him shiver, stacking books in his arms to read to his son, and the first time Alec had seen him at the orientation and he’d spelled a rose into his front pocket:  _that_ smile had been for Max, but all the same Alec keeps it for himself.  He thinks of the thrashing rush of heat that flared through his chest to his thighs when Magnus had fixed his eyes on his hips, called him a name no one else does; how easy it had been to flirt back; how alight his whole body felt when Magnus had made him laugh. Magnus makes him feel stupid, but in a good way—ridiculous and nervous, like a whole forest’s worth of butterflies are in his stomach.

Every line of every curve appears in his mind, then.  The dramatic slope of the tendons on his neck, always shifting under a necklace; a torso that runs in perpendicular rows to a salient disorientating V; hips that are always dancing; shoulders that are always swinging; and his pink mouth, full and distracting and absolutely aware of exactly what to say to make Alec’s head go numb.

He thinks of Max’s outrageously bright grins whenever Magnus is around, of the way he’d looked curled up in Magnus’s lap with magic engulfing them both, of how excited he’d been, even during the first week of classes. The way Magnus would look at Max.  How he’d hold him, how he’d stroke his hair, how his voice had broken when Max had been hurt.  How Magnus had looked at Rafael like he understood how scared he was, without needing Alec to tell him.

The soft smiles he’d give Alec and Max when he’d drop Max off in the mornings.

The endless patience he has for everyone and everything.

His eyeliner, the glitter, the cologne he wears that lights Alec’s nerves on fire, leaves every inch of him wanting.

The hurt look in his eyes when Alec had told him to never come back.

He rolls over in his bed, tearing himself from the roses. But even though he’s turned away, he can feel his heart still there, staring at the red petals.

His oldest son’s voice rings through his head for hours as he stares wide-awake at the wall.

 _Apologize_.  _Duh._  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started to doubt myself again and also this hit 400 comments (some of them are me replying but ssshhhh) and 15000 views so you have the chapter a day early! 
> 
> Thank you（ｉДｉ）


	11. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to write this for a long time....... I cried when I finished. I can't believe I made it to this part ;__; Posting early again because the longer it sits on my computer, the more I hate it, and I don't want to hate this chapter at all.
> 
> Thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com/) like always.

 

Apologies are the antecedent of endless anxiety for Alec.  It’s not that he thinks he’s too good to say sorry—it’s not that he never messes up either, definitely not that.  Words have never come easy to him.  Since Max and Raf he’s gotten better, but still talking for him is like dragging a boulder uphill, slow like the gradual pace of snowfall piling, like trying to grab at stars and far-off planets.  He can see them; he knows they’re there.  But the space between himself and the words he wants to say is monumental, like the space between the ground and the stars.  He loses his way and usually stutters out something stupid.  

And it’s only worse, with Magnus.

He’s got to be angry.  Alec is mad at  _himself_.  How had he ever thought kicking Magnus out of their lives was the best answer?  How had he thought it was any kind of solution at all?  If he’d talked to Rafael sooner, paid more attention to his older son – if he’d only let himself fall freely into the way Magnus makes Max happy – if Alec hadn’t been so blinded by his own paranoia in protecting his kids – things wouldn’t be like this.

But how should he do this?  How can he apologize for the things he’d said to Magnus?  Thrown him out like a used rag.  Treated him the way other Shadowhunters treat Warlocks.  As if he’d served a purpose, then become obsolete.

Magnus won’t forgive him, and Alec has accepted that.  He doesn’t deserve anything else.  Anything they might’ve had is gone.  This isn’t about that.

The only thing Alec wants—the only thing he’ll ask for—is for Magnus to come back to Max.

He can’t just show up at the school with Max and apologize, though.  Somehow that wouldn’t be fair.  Magnus wouldn’t be able to say no, with Max right there.  No, Alec needs to get him alone, so Magnus can tell him to fuck off if he wants.

He gets an idea when he’s waking Max up in the morning to say goodbye before he heads to the Seelie Court.  The books Magnus had lent him, over a month ago now, are still sat on the table beside Max’s bed.

(For a moment Alec stares at his sheets.  They’d been changed in the last month to a pattern made of a Warlock flower.  Alec doesn’t know much about them, only that they’re called ‘giant krokos’ and require magic to grow and that Max, being as plant-obsessed as his brother is clothes-obsessed, adores them.)

Between Alec, Rafael, Izzy, Clary, and Jace, Max had had every book read to him, some more than once.

Magnus would want them back anyway, right?

 

* * *

 

He’s just leaving for London when Magnus gets a text.  The name ‘Alexander’ flashes on the screen of his phone, for the first time ever.

It’s mid-morning, which means Alec should be with the Seelies, and they don’t allow cellphone use inside the Court.

All the same, Magnus ignores the text for a good long hour, walking through the streets of London until he arrives at his client’s home.  During Valentine’s uprising, Magnus had spent a lot of time in London, helping the Warlocks here prepare and stay safe.  Ragnor had gone into hiding—Magnus hadn’t blamed him, he’d nearly done the same—and they’d had no one else.  So he’d minded both cities, though he’d spent most of his time in Great Britain.  It is, he suspects, the reason he hadn’t met the New York Shadowhunters sooner.

As such, he has lingering clients in London.

Before Magnus knocks on the door of the Faerie he’s to meet with, he pulls out his phone.  The text from Alec reads an unexciting tone:

_I still have ur books._

Alec booted him from his life after Magnus fell in love with his son and this is what he comes up with?  These are his first words to Magnus after three weeks?

He doesn’t even bother frowning.  Forcefully, Magnus taps at his phone and hits ‘send.’

_That’s nice._

He means to put it back into his pocket and forget Alec—he must have gotten caught with his phone by now, or if he’d waited just outside the Court he must be in it by now—but the reply is instant.

_can I return them 2 u?_

‘2 u’?  Honestly—

Magnus purses his lips and puts his phone on silent, shoves it back in his pocket and resolves not to look at it until he’s finished in London.

 

* * *

 

When no reply comes, Alec starts to panic. Again.

He’s over an hour late to the Seelie Court.  He’s been standing just outside one of the many entrances to the forest that are scattered across New York, clutching his phone in his hand.

This was a bad idea.  This was a _stupid_ idea.  What’s he thinking, texting Magnus about books after everything he’s done?  Why can’t he be honest?  He should just write out, ‘I want to talk to you, if you want to talk to me, if it’s okay.’ Isn’t that too heavy, though?  Is it?  Should he write Magnus a firenote instead?  No he needs to explain it in person—but Alec should make it so that when he does go see Magnus, Magnus has an out. Right? Or is that the exact wrong thing to do?  He has no idea, anymore.  His hands are sweating.

Alec waits another fifteen minutes.  When there’s still no reply, he sends another message:

_r u at the school today?_

He waits fifteen more minutes.  He does get a reply then, but it’s not Magnus.

_Alec Lightwood.  I trust your tardiness comes with a suitable excuse?  
_

 

* * *

 

Magnus portals back to his flat in Brooklyn around one in the afternoon.  His head is spinning, but he isn't sure why.  Normally he quite likes Fairfolk incense.

Though Magnus has spent most of his life and all of his time in this flat living alone, it seems too quiet.  Lately.  There is an etched hole, void where small fingers used to poke at his back, asking for his attention.  An enervated, emptied expanse of an echoing laugh, loving and flowing with life.  A weakness his magic has adopted, accepted, catalyzed by the absence of a tiny body bundled in his arms.

Magnus has never been any kind of father to anyone.  But the way he misses Max, misses his heartbeat and smiles and the gentle flow of his magic—misses the way he’d curled up in Magnus’s lap, misses hearing his giddy and outrageous laughter at the execution of a new spell.  Misses his name on Max’s voice.  Misses the near-daily presence of him, just the fact of him.

It can’t be anything else.  He’d started to feel protective, responsible, obligated.

Magnus had been powerless to stop it, and wouldn’t have even if he could.

There is no possible way Alec hadn’t realized.  It just hadn’t made a difference to him, in whatever had been going on in his mind.  Whatever the issue was—whether it was Max or that Rafael didn’t trust him or something else—it hadn’t been enough that Magnus would die for Alec’s son.  He’d shown him the door anyway.

Magnus fingers his phone in his pocket as he sits down in a blue loveseat.  Out of three-week-old desperation and a loneliness he’s never felt, he pulls the phone out.

_r u at the school today?_

He’s hurt, more than angry.  But he’s angry too.

Magnus stabs out his response.

 _As today is a Sunday, I am not._  

Alec is fiercely loyal, viciously protective, and perfectly loving—all qualities which had drawn Magnus to him, in the first place.  He knows Alec had been protecting his sons.  But why did he feel as if he needed to protect them from Magnus?

That hurt too, almost as much as the idea of never seeing Max again.

A reply soon follows.

_can I drop them off at ur home? wont stay long_

Brow sliding downward, Magnus stares at the message.

 

* * *

 

Alec bites his bottom lip, waiting.  He’s sat under a tree, just on the outskirts of the Faerie Court.  He’s not allowed on his phone, but he’d left it on anyway and the moment it buzzed he’d crept out of the meeting.

Magnus is pissed.  Alec runs a hand through his hair.  His knee bounces up and down, unheeding and sporadic.

The reply does come, just as cold and distant and scathing as the others.

_You’ll have to wait until I’m there. 8pm._

_ok see u_

A few minutes later, when Alec is sitting with the Faeries again, he realizes he’s never been to Magnus’s place.  He pulls his phone out and sends another message, hiding it under a mushroom-table.  

_Idk ur address_

The response is quick this time:

_I trust the head of the New York Institute can figure it out._

 

* * *

 

Magnus hadn’t been lying, he does have plans tonight.  He, Catarina, and Ragnor get together once a month for drinks.  They had ever since Valentine’s uprising and they’d all been reminded that immortality is not the same as invincibility and friends are wont to be seen in light of this.

He does not intend to talk about Alec.  Ragnor and Catarina haven’t heard about him yet, and Magnus had envisioned to distract his faint heart with alcohol and good company.

Magnus relates to his friends everything from meeting Alec to the last time they’d seen each other, the story spilling out like an Earth-drowning rainfall.

It feels good to tell someone.  He should remember that more readily, after all these years.

“You’re hurt,” Catarina says, by way of summarizing the sour expression on his face.

“Oh we’re beyond hurt, my dear,” Magnus says, widening his eyes and knocking back a larger drink of his whiskey, “I’m furious.”

Ragnor leans toward him, his voice as low and sonorous as ever, “You forgave Camille for far worse, my friend.”

Magnus stares incredulously at his treacherous companions.  “I’m not forgiving him.  I’m not speaking to him.” He throws his hands in the air, talking with them, “This isn’t like Camille—this is, this is,” not worse, _never_ worse, “It’s different.”

“The guy obviously likes you, Magnus,” Catarina says, stirring her cosmo.  

“He told me to never come back!”

She waves a hand, physically gesturing to the flaws in his own argument.  “And you told us he has _some_ reason.”

“He’s-” Magnus grips at his glass, head spinning slightly.  He hasn’t had more than three.  “He’s got the conversational skills of a candle holder.”

“And clearly you find that charming. So,” Catarina takes a long drink, “go talk to him.”

“Just like that?”

She shrugs, “You’ve strung him out all day, haven’t you? I’m sure he’s pissing himself.  That’s enough.”

Magnus crosses his legs and stays put, sipping at his drink.

The time on his phone reads 7:21.

 

* * *

 

When seven thirty rolls around, Alec is a ball of nerves.  Every hair on his skin is standing up, his breaths are short and forced, and he can’t sit still.

He’d asked Clary and Isabelle if they would mind watching the boys while he goes to see Magnus.  They’d both grinned at him, saying they didn’t mind at all.  Clary elbowed him and said, “Go get ‘em tiger.”  It didn’t make Alec feel any better, but he’d smiled for her sake.

He goes up to their corridor now, knowing Isabelle and Clary are in the living room with Max and Raf.  He hasn’t told his kids where he’s going, and he’s not sure if he should.  Keeping things from them hasn’t worked at all so far, though.  Nothing he’s done has worked so far.

But Alec doesn’t tell Max. He’s almost positive Magnus will teach him again, but if he does refuse?  And Alec has to tell his younger son _again_ that he’ll never see him?  Put him through all of that twice?  He won’t risk it.  

So while Isabelle has Max in her lap, reading to him, Alec pulls his older son aside and tells him where he’s going.

Rafael looks at his dad carefully.  “Are you gonna…”

“Raf.” Alec grabs the tips of his small fingers.  His arm hangs over his knee as he squats down to be at eye-level.  Their partially joined hands dangle in the open air.  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.  Okay?”

Rafael searches his eyes.  Alec feels like a cat’s watching him, peering straight into his soul.  “Why not?”

“It’s… I really hurt him.”

“I told you,” his brown fingers grip at Alec’s larger hand, Raf moving closer, “just say sorry.”

Alec always loves his kids but sometimes, like now, he feels it like a hurried, warm rush.  “That doesn’t always work when you’re older.”  He shakes his head.  “He might not forgive me.”

“But you think he’ll be Max’s teacher again?”

“Yeah.”  Alec knows Magnus wouldn’t hurt Max.  Not right now at least, and not like that.  No matter what Alec has done. “I do. But don’t tell Max yet, okay?”

He gathers the books from Max’s room and pulls on his jacket, planning to take the subway.  It’s not long at all before he’s standing outside Magnus’s building.  His lair is glamoured, but files at the Institute said you can always ring the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s buzzer.   The clock across the street reads 7:55.

Alec pushes the right button.  Waits.

But no one answers.

 

* * *

 

Magnus looks at the time on his phone.  8:05. Something cold creeps into his chest.

The worst thing—the most _annoying part_ —is that Magnus misses Alec more than he knows what to do with.  His unpracticed smile, his entirely too-tall frame, the wide span of his shoulders, the awkward stuttering, how his eyes skip away when he’s nervous, the shy way he’d flirted back, in the beginning.

But that doesn’t mean Magnus will run back to him.

Alec can freeze outside his building for all he cares.

 

* * *

 

Holding his arms to his chest, Alec looks at the clock across the street that has become his deity.  8:46.

His fingers are numb, white like they’re frosting over.  He’d draw a heat rune but in his nervousness he’d left his stele at the Institute.  Which is something no Shadowhunter ever does.  Something Isabelle would kill him for.

Magnus is either making him wait—or he’s standing Alec up completely.

He falls back against the wall behind him, the stone cold and his breath folding out in white husks, as if it’s as empty as he feels.  The icy air bites into his skin through his jacket, crawling deep into his bones and rooting itself. He’s cold and he feels sick with over-spent nerves but he won't go, won't leave, not until he can talk with Magnus.

Alec thinks of his son’s unlighted face, the blankness in his eyes, the heavy way he holds his head, and knows he needs to stay.

9:07 

And he is here, above everything, for Max.  But he is so, so sorry he’d hurt Magnus, too.  He’s probably just as heartbroken over not seeing Max as Max is over him.

He’s probably furious with Alec.

Magnus probably never wants to see him again.

Alec waits anyway.

9:33

He’s never been with someone, never been on a date, never kissed, never even held hands with another guy.  There’s never been time.  There was Valentine and then there was Rafael and then Max. And no one wants a guy with two kids, with a Warlock for a son—but Alec wouldn’t want them, either.

He wants…

Well, it doesn’t matter.  He’d ruined everything between Magnus and himself.  That part, at least, is over.  

9:47

 

* * *

 

Magnus is finishing his fifth drink at 10:32, swigging it back like it’s the only thing he needs to live.  A great deal of himself has managed to be rid of Alec for some of the night, letting go of his hazel eyes and the memory of how someone so guarded loves his kids so openly—how he does not let his reservations or insecurities stop him from smothering Max and Rafael in affection—how-

Magnus frowns and decides he needs another drink.  He will not think about Alexander in any sort of positive light.  He does not care, any longer, that he’s got a smile that could cure the common cold, or hands that are always warm, so infinitely tempered and some god had better save his soul because those fingers—

Magnus scowls.  Where is their server?

“Well, I’d better go,” Catarina says, making to stand up.  Magnus looks at her, alarmed.  They normally stay out until the next day begins to dawn.

Ragnor nods at her, also rising. “I must depart as well,” he says.

Still sitting, Magnus means to raise his eyebrows sarcastically at his friends, but isn’t so sure the expression completes itself.  “What, are you two getting old?”

Catarina kisses him on the head and says goodbye, scratching gently at the back of his neck and smiling dotingly at him before she goes.  Her and Ragnor share a look that Magnus pointedly ignores.

When they’re left alone, Ragnor sets a hand over his.  It’s warm.  Magnus has felt that hand and heard his voice for hundreds and hundreds of years. “You do not deserve to be pushed aside, my old friend, but I haven’t seen you so bothered over someone in nearly a century.”  Ragnor grips his hand tighter, shaking it slightly. “Do not let yourself be the reason it ends before it even began.”

The liquor turns over in Magnus’s stomach.  His phone glares at him, 10:41.

“Besides,” Ragnor says, smirking, “I’ve always wanted to be an uncle.”

 

* * *

 

Alec looks at the clock across the road.

10:47

 _He’s not coming_ , he thinks.  Alec doesn’t blame him.  He should leave.  He can try again tomorrow.

He pulls his phone out and sends a small message, meaning to head home after.

But he finds his feet aren’t moving, his arms are still holding the books to his chest, his eyes have drifted back to the clock.

The buzzer rings.

 

* * *

 

Magnus waits alone at the bar for a few minutes, Ragnor and Catarina’s words flitting through his mind like an unwelcome guest at a party.

He’s being petty, he knows that.  Alec had hurt him and Magnus’s reaction to being hurt has always been to retreat and never give the person the time of day again, especially after Camille.

But they hadn’t talked about anything.  No plans were made.  They hadn’t even been together.  Alec had betrayed a trust that was only implied, never affirmed, and he’d done so for his kids—even if Magnus doesn’t understand exactly why.

Max and Rafael would come before Magnus.  They had to.  He’d be even angrier with Alec if they hadn’t.

There is no possible way Alexander is still waiting for him now, three hours after Magnus said he’d be home, but he can call him tomorrow.  Ragnor and Catarina are right.  Magnus does not deserve to be shoved aside without being given a chance.  He deserves someone who trusts him, someone who talks to him—and Alec had, at first.  But what does all this pettiness do?  Where does it get him, in the end?

Alone at a bar.  Alone in his apartment.  When all he can think about are Alec’s eyes and Max’s tiny hands held in his own.

Once he’s waited long enough to use magic again, Magnus portals out of the bar.  He steps into his flat, mind buzzing, wondering how he’s ever going to sleep now with all these thoughts impeaching his generally composed mind.  He’s just making to clean up for bed when his phone buzzes.

It’s just his name, shining on the screen, that’s all Alec had sent:  
  
_Magnus?_

Does this mean Alexander is still here?  No—No—He did _not_ wait outside Magnus’s building for over three hours.  He didn’t, because that’s too much, makes it hard to stay angry, thinking of how he kept Alec waiting out in the cold.  Magnus takes three long strides to the button next to the door to his flat and presses it, holding his breath.

 

* * *

 

Alec grabs the handle in a quick jab, heaving the door to the complex open.  He hurries inside, his fingers throbbing as they’re enveloped in warmer air.  Not stopping he makes his way up the stairs to the third floor, room 307, and he knocks, holding his breath.

 

* * *

 

Magnus opens his door.  Alexander’s frightened eyes meet his without hesitation, darting and glossy and he’s shaking, shivering from the cold Fall air.  His lips are faintly blue.  His hair is windswept.  The tips of his ears are a bright, painful red, as is his nose.

He drops his eyes to the books as Alec holds them out.  “I— here,” he says.

Without a smile, without any expression whatsoever, Magnus takes the books and turns to walk back in his apartment.  But he leaves the door open and seconds later, Alec follows him inside.  He sets the books down on the mantel over the fireplace, and with an inconspicuous wave he lights it.  Then he drops himself into his blue loveseat, crossing his legs and snapping himself a glass of wine.

“What do you want, Alec?”  Magnus says, short and impatient.

 

* * *

 

Shivering, Alec opens his mouth and then he shuts it, the act familiar in a way that hurts now, looking at Magnus.  He hasn’t seen him in weeks and—

No.  That’s not what he’s here for.

Alec is afraid.  He is too used to his siblings being able to read him, and despite having hours to think, he’s still not sure what to say.  Magnus’s uncaring, indifferent expression only makes it harder.  “Can I…” Alec clears his throat and rubs at his arms.  “Can I come in?”

“You already have.”

“Can I—”

Magnus rolls his eyes, the act sharp enough to shut Alec up. He sits on the long red couch, perpendicular to the love-seat Magnus is in.  It’s warm and feeling starts to return to his fingers, nose, and ears.  He grips the cushions under him, leaning forward slightly, trying to find the thread of where to start, how to do this.

It’s for Max, isn’t it?  He should just start there.

“I…” Alec breathes in and out, slowly, closes his eyes and opens them and stares into the fire.  “I found Max on a mission with Jace, about five years ago.  We were looking for a key to—” _that part doesn’t matter_.  He squeezes his eyes shut, revamping, “We were in his mother’s lair, and I heard him in the room next to us, trying to breathe.  I didn’t know what it was.

“I went in, and there was this crib in the middle of all this equipment, medical stuff- And there were potions, and Warlock runes on the walls. I went over and he was really thin and grey, and he screamed when I picked him up.  I ran all the way home with him.

“His mother charged me with kidnapping, but Izzy found us a good lawyer.  We kept Max for six months before Allison managed to convince the Clave she was a fit mother.”

Alec glances over at Magnus.  His lips are parted, slight surprise sitting in its corners. Alec continues, looking back into the fire again.  “My own mother didn’t want,  _doesn’t_ want, a Downworlder for a grandson.  She was happy Max was gone.  But I knew Allison was doing something worse to him than forgetting to feed him.  What baby screams when you pick it up?  And Izzy found traces of magic in his body, and there was blood in that room, Magnus, and I couldn’t…”

“Alec.”

“I couldn’t leave him with her,” he says, rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, “So I fought my mother, and the Clave, and Allison, and every other person who told me I shouldn’t be a father to a Warlock.  I didn’t care.”

 

* * *

 

Magnus watches the light leave his features, watches the memories steal his mind and lock it down.  Whatever he’d been expecting Alexander to do or say tonight, it hadn’t been this.

Alec keeps talking, “Max went back and forth between me and his mother for four years.  He has attachment issues, because of it.  He used to scream in the middle of the night because he’d wake up in his room and he’d be alone.  I let him sleep with me sometimes but I wanted him to know that even if he can’t see me, I’m still there.”

Alec runs a hand over his mouth.  Magnus wants to go over and sit next to him, but he won’t.  As sad as the story is, he’ll not be drawn to pity for _Alec_ because of it—that isn’t what Alec is trying to do, anyway. Magnus stays still.

“Rafael warmed up to Max really quick, once he got used to sharing the attention.  He’d be in the room before I was, sometimes, when Max had a breakdown.” Alec pauses for a moment, mouth agape, before he continues, still staring into the fire, “Rafael freaked out the first time the Clave came and took Max away.  I grabbed him and held him down, and he fought me for a long time before he just started crying.

“We got Max back a few months later, when Lydia found more proof of neglect on Allison’s part.  Rafael had to get used to him all over again.  We kept Max for seven months this time, and lost him the day after Raf’s fourth birthday.  By then, Raf was old enough to- to remember, you know?  They were starting to be- they were- he was-”

“Alec,” Magnus says, “You don’t need…”

“I  _do_.”  His eyes snap directly to Magnus’s, giving him a fierce stare, one that borders easily on desperate. “I should’ve told you all of this a long time ago.”   

After gazing at him a moment, Magnus sets his wine down. “I’m listening.”

Alec looks back at the fire.

“We managed to get Max back in under a month, thanks to Lydia,” Magnus is going to have to find out who this Lydia is, “but Allison didn’t quit.  And the Clave was always looking for any excuse to take Max away from us.  It was four years until Lydia found enough proof of Allison’s abuse to make sure Max never went back there.  Four years, and Max was always living with the fear of going back to her, Raf was always waiting to lose his brother.

“I never told you, but Max was terrified of magic when he was a toddler, I couldn’t get him near it.”

Magnus’s heart breaks, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it on his face.

Alec’s isn’t any different.  He shifts in his seat, clasping his hands together in his lap as he starts on another story, “I ended up with Rafael becau—”

“You don’t—” Magnus’s voice sticks, “You don’t need to tell me about Rafael, Alec, that certainly isn’t my business.”

Alec’s expression absolutely crumbles.  “Magnus.  I  _want_ you to know,” he says, “I’m trying to…” he stops.  “I want you to know,” he says again.

Magnus searches his eyes, and can only say, “Okay,” to the earnest plea in them.

Alec continues, “Rafael’s parents were brought in from Buenos Aires when we needed extra help at the Institute, six years ago.  They were on a mission with me, one night - it was nothing major.  I went on ahead, I didn’t think—” Alec takes a heaving breath, “It was just a scouting missing.  An in and out.  We were looking for signs of a new werewolf pack. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone there.  But I heard them scream and when I ran back they were dead.  I had to go home and tell a two-year-old I let his parents die.

“We put Rafael up for adoption, but until someone wanted him, we decided to keep him at the Institute.”  Alec is staring absently at the fire, rubbing his thumb and fingers together, detached from his surroundings with the memory. “I took care of him.  How could I not?  I killed his parents.”

Magnus frowns at that.  They live in a dangerous world.  Sometimes people die and there’s nothing anyone could’ve done.

“I spent every day with him for months and before I knew it I was crazy about him,” Alec says, smiling for the first time since he’d walked into Magnus’s apartment.  “When I told everyone I wanted to adopt him, they told me I was nuts. ‘Alec you’re too young’ ‘You’re throwing your life away’ ‘You don’t know anything about kids.’

“But I… I was putting him to bed every night, and feeding him, and- you should’ve heard his laugh when he was...” He trails off, smiling into his hand.  Magnus would love to hear the rest of that - Alec rocking a two-year-old Rafael to sleep, bathing him, up in the night with him - but he continues on with the story.

“Isabelle was the only one who was happy for me, but after a few weeks… Rafael was just family.  We already knew him a little before, and I started reading all these parenting books, and I took paternity leave for a year, it all just… Everything was fine, except he could still remember his parents, and he’d have these dreams, and when he started calling me ‘Dad’ I could tell he wasn’t sure if it felt right.  But mostly, everything was good.

“And then Max happened and- and- it all went to hell for a while,” Alec falters, deflates.

Magnus watches the dark bags under his eyes stretch, deep entrenches moulding as he rubs a hand down the left side of his face.  He leans forwards, elbows on his knees.  “Magnus, both of my kids have been through  _so much_ , way more than any kid should have to deal with,” Magnus agrees, and wonders not for the first time why the indifferent universe tends to be so cruel, “and I couldn’t—” Alec’s neck strains the way it does when he’s forcing himself to speak, his voice growing hoarse with each word, “I couldn’t put them through any more, just because I… I…”

Magnus holds his breath, without intent.  _You what?_

Alec stands up suddenly.  His heart is pounding.  He’s angry at himself, at the lives his children had been forced to deal with, at never being enough for anyone, at never being able to help, not really, not in any way that mattered in the end.

He realizes now, what the real problem had been, why he’d pushed Magnus away so fiercely — what all his defensive fear had been about.  Raf and Max definitely, but something else, too.

“I told you to leave because I couldn’t put them through any more. I was afraid of you hurting them when you left us, someday. And for a long time I thought that was it, that it was just about them. But—”

Alec stops walking when he reaches the fire.  He bows his head, looking down at the roaring flames.  His chest bunches up, nerves twisting inside of him like a curled, decrepit vine in an old, dark forest.

“It  _is_ about them, Magnus,” he explains, taking in a breath so deep it shudders, wracking through his lungs, “but it’s not just about them.”  Alec feels sick.  He feels like the words coming out of him are poison, sneaking through his body like something wretched.

_You don’t think you’re good enough._

“Magnus.” His voice falls far below a whisper. “What could you ever see in me?” Alec says, and the admission comes easily from his lips, but it tears his insides apart, voicing his fears for the first time. His head still hung low and back to the other man, he continues, “I’m mortal, I’ll _die_ someday. What kind of future is that?  Why would you ever want me?”  Alec rubs at his eyes and finds them damp. “I was afraid of that-  I’m not _enough_ \- I was scared you’d leave, and it would kill Max – it already is and it’s only been a month – and it would be _my fault_ -”

His voice dies.  Alec just stands there, not crying but nearly, too drained from the past three weeks to control his body.

Magnus rises out of his seat.  He can’t stop himself, doesn’t want to.  His heart takes control of his feet and he’s moving toward Alec.

Alec barely notices, thinks Magnus is probably going to toss him out anyway.  There’s no excuse for the way Alec had treated him.  His own fears don’t matter in light of that.

Carefully, only ghosting, Magnus sets the tips of his fingers on Alec’s wrist, standing at his back. “Alec.” His tone is so low it sneaks in around all the poison Alec feels still swelling inside him, all the self-loathing he’s bottled up. “If we’re going to use such base language, then I will tell you: You _are_ enough.”  Magnus moves his fingers from his wrist, sliding until he’s holding Alec’s hand completely. “You’re so much more than that, too.”  Curves his arm until their hands touch palm-to-palm. “But I’ve never once thought of you like that.”

Magnus pulls, only suggesting, asking.

Alec turns around.  His head stays bowed, too scared he’ll fall apart if he looks.  
  
A warm, gentle hand finds Alec’s face and without warning Magnus is holding his cheek and bringing his head up and Alec is shaking, afraid, unsure—lost in cat’s eyes for what amounts to an eternity.  “You’re not a commodity, Alexander.”  Magnus rubs a thumb across his cheek.  Alec can’t help leaning into it.  It feels so good, so warm.  It feels like _home_.

Guilt crushes into his chest.  Alec steps back, pushing himself away.  “I didn’t come here for this,” he says, watching Magnus lower the hand that had only just been on him, “I’m here for Max.”  Alec tugs at his wrist, tries to keep himself together with the act, “I was wrong to take him out of your classes.  He’s miserable.  Please be part of his life, as his teacher or- or however else you want.  There are too many things I can’t do for him.  I know I’m asking a lot—but he _needs_ you, Magnus.”

Magnus takes a step closer to him.  His shoulders don’t swing—they stay static, solid, grounded.  “I spent six hours a day, five days a week with him, on top of his tutoring sessions.  The magic I taught him is the magic I would be teaching my own children, if I had any.  He asks me for advice.  He’s asked me if you’d rather he was a Shadowhunter, like his brother.”  Alec’s eyes go wide, but Magnus keeps talking, “I promise you I told him he couldn’t be farther from the truth.  My point is, Alec, I would have to be heartless not to love him by now.”

“You…”

“Love him,” Magnus says, “Though I don’t know why I need to explain it to you. I think it’s fairly obvious your tiny blueberry has taken up permanent residence in my heart.”  Magnus closes the gap between them, taking Alec’s hand.  He doesn’t know what else he can do.  He knew Alexander lacked consistency in his self-confidence, that he has moments of intense self-doubt—but Magnus had never imagined the depth of it. “If he ever needs anything,” he lets his eyes soften fully, finally, for the first time since Alec had walked into his flat, “I will be here for him.  And I do mean _ever_.”

Alec feels tears welling up in his eyes again.  He doesn’t often let himself think about what Max will do when Alec and Raf and Izzy and everyone else are dead and he still has his crazy just-as-immortal-as-he-is mother to deal with.  That Magnus might be around to help him is a huge relief Alec can’t put into words.

“Regardless of what happens, or _doesn’t_ happen, between you and I,” Magnus finishes.

Alec grips his hand tighter. “For whatever it’s worth—” he feels Magnus rub a thumb along the back of his hand, smooth and caressing, the sensation surging up to his throat and causing him to stutter a moment before he says, “Magnus, I’m  _sorry_.”  It sounds too simple.  Alec had been too terrible.  It’s not enough, _he’s_ not enough, not even close.

“I can hardly stay mad at a man looking out for his children,” Magnus says, the swing back in his shoulders.  And Alec hadn’t realized how he’d missed that, along with every other little way Magnus moves.  It makes their dangling hands dance.  “And we never made any promises, Alec.”

Alec looks at their hands. “I almost kissed you.”

“Hm.” Magnus smirks. “Was that a promise?”

Alec starts, looking up and he just stares, bewildered.  “Magnus I was _awful_.  All those things I said-” He looks at their hands again, disbelieving the sight. “How can you be… be like this?”

Magnus thinks about Ragnor and Catarina, how they were right.  He smiles, tilting his head up.  “I have been alive for a very long time, Alec.  I’ve met cruel people, and I’ve been with them.  You,” he takes a step closer, watches Alec’s eyes watching him and thinks he’s missed it more than he knew, “were concerned about your sons.  I  _am_ hurt—but it is nothing you can’t make up to me.”  Magnus moves his hand around to tug at the long fingers in his grasp. “All I ask is that next time, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“ _I will_.”  Alec’s heart stutters.  The feeling isn’t entirely pleasant, but it’s alive, electric, giddy. He looks directly into Magnus’s eyes. “I promise.”

Then Alec lets go, meaning to head back to the Institute.  He moves towards the door, but only makes it half a step.

“Where are you going?” Magnus asks.

“Um.” Alec freezes.  His hand is still warm, and he can feel all the places Magnus had pressed into. “Back to the Institute?”

“Oh absolutely not.”  Magnus walks over to him.  “Is someone watching Max and Rafael?  Can you stay for drinks?”

“I...” Alec’s eyes flit over to the wall, a painting, the fireplace, a dusty gourd sitting on the floor. “What?”

“Drinks.  Martinis, cocktails, whiskey, wine?”  Magnus takes his hand and pulls him back towards the fire and the couches.  “Which do you like?”

“You…” This can’t—this—Alec must be _dreaming_. “You want me to?”

Magnus turns in a fluid, lithe spin to face him, still holding Alec’s hand.  “Unless you have to rush home to your sons – which I would not keep you from.”

“Um.  I don—Magnus, I can’t.”

Magnus twines their fingers together.  “Stop feeling _guilty_ , Alec,” he says, tugging Alexander a little closer.  “Stay here and make it up to me.”

“I-” Alec feels his face go hot. He’s sure he shouldn’t be allowed to do this.  To have this.  How can Magnus be giving him another chance?  “I can call Izzy and Clary and tell them I’ll be late,” he says, stunned.  Nevermind that he’s already done so twice, or that it’s nearing midnight.  
  
Magnus grins.  “Excellent.”


	12. Would Smell as Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Mika](http://liamsen.tumblr.com/) drew the scene from chapter six when Max unlocks his magic and crawls into Magnus's lap [CLICK HERE](http://liamsen.tumblr.com/post/145402680092/its-time-to-see-what-i-can-do-another-pic-of) to see it!!!! They're art is amazing and I'm so /////////// I'm still losing my mind about it!!! They like Max with white hair and honestly he's a Warlock he can change his hair whenever pft ;)
> 
> Thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com/) like always!

“So, what would you like?”

“I don’t know.”  Alec looks up at the tall liquor cabinet.  “I never drink.”

“A virgin, then?”

“What?”

“I mean non-alcoholic.”

“Oh.” Fighting the redness in his cheeks--there despite the ridiculous joke--Alec looks at him.  Magnus’s voice had turned his head but curiosity tugs Alec’s eyes down to his lips.

They’re perfectly curved, symmetrical, the top arching up in a cute bow.  The corners pull out in a flare, the bottom is thick, pouted—he didn’t know lips could  _be_ that nice. This fun to stare at. “No, I- I could use one.” They look soft, delicate and immaculate, dainty but imposing somehow in their edges, as if Alec would want to do whatever they asked. “A- A drink,” he stutters, flicks his eyes back to Magnus’s. “A real one, I mean.”

He smiles.  Alec’s eyes jump down to his mouth again, but he yanks them back up quickly.

Magnus says, “Can I surprise you?”

“Sure.”  His voice squeaks, Alec hears it, but Magnus graciously doesn’t comment.

He asks Alec to take a seat while he mixes their drinks.  Alec does, watching him pour and stir, feeling surreal.  He can’t really be here.  He can’t be in Magnus’s apartment at 11:30 at night, waiting to be served drinks.  The inside of his head whirrs like something electric, every horrible thing he’d said and done to Magnus blaring through it, guilt spreading to the tendons along his neck.  It pulls them tight.  Alec rubs at them, an overflux of tension under his fingers.  He really  _can’t_ be here.

“Magnus, maybe I should…”

Magnus turns around, two drinks in his hands, and slides one into Alec’s, silencing him.  It’s cool against his hot palm.  Altogether unexpectedly Magnus sits down on the couch with him, not the in the loveseat he'd been in before.  There’s space between them, but he crosses his legs and leans his knees toward Alec.  Alec has his back pressed to the couch, legs spread apart, so his right knee is close to the one Magnus has leaning toward him.  

“How’s your tirade with the Seelie Queen?” Magnus's smile is easy and earnest.

“Um.”  Alec blinks, a little stupefied, “She still hasn’t signed the treaty.”

“She always was over-cautious,” Magnus says with a small eye-roll.  “You’d think hosting a Shadowhunter wedding would be enough to placate her worries.  How are the meetings?”

Alec blinks again.  “Alright.  I mostly just sit there and watch.”

“Probably for the best.  Faeries can be tricky.”  He takes a sip of his wine.  Alec watches his mouth wrap around the glass.  “The Downworld gossip about you two is wild, Alexander.  Everyone thinks the head of the New York Institute is sleeping with the Queen of Faeries.”  Alec blanches, halting before he’s about to try whatever drink Magnus had made him.  “Is it true she’s your date to Isabelle’s wedding?”

“Not my decision,” he says.  Alec likes Aralola – the Queen – just fine.  But he doesn’t understand why she’s so clung to him.

He takes a drink finally.  It’s sweet, but not over-stimulating, and burns when it goes down.  But it’s probably not strong at all.  Alec is just a lightweight.

Magnus brings his wine to his lips, asking, “What do you think?” before he takes another drink.

“It’s nice,” Alec says, feeling the response inadequate.  “What is it?”

“A simple vodka cranberry.  I would give you something better in a heartbeat, but I thought-”

He doesn’t mean to cut Magnus off but his dark eyes had flashed a quiet panic, one that was meant to be hidden. “It’s good,” Alec says. “I probably wouldn’t like anything fancy.”  He’d probably just find it gross.

Magnus grins and clinks their glasses together.  “So if I can ask you this without igniting your monumental guilt—” his knee bumps into Alec’s, “—How is Max doing?  After…”

After Magnus healed him.  After Alec had tried to force him to accept payment for services.  After he’d rejected another rose, wouldn’t let Magnus carry his son to bed.

“I see I’ve ignited it,” Magnus says, staring at Alec’s darkening expression.

“I should’ve let you—” If it ever comes up again, Alec will.  No, he’ll make  _sure_ it comes up again.  “I’m sorry,” he says, glass gripped in his hand and set on his knee, stiff.  “Max really misses you.”

“I’ve missed the tiny blueberry as well,” Magnus says.  He places his knee against Alec’s now, deliberate.  “And his father.”

Alec gets swept up in his eyes, can almost see through the glamour.  “I’m right here,” he says, a simple truth.  He doesn’t mean much by it but realizes how it sounds, after, and is more than fine with the connotation.

“Mm,” Magnus hums, setting an elbow on the back of the couch, his head in his hand, and smiling.

He just stares at Alec then, like he’s trying to memorize the lines on his face.  Alec starts to go hot under his collar.  He does his best to hold Magnus’s gaze, wants to stop being so nervous, at least not all the time.  But he wavers after a long moment, eyes skirting off to look somewhere not so consuming.

“Uh,” he tries, “So… I don’t really know anything about you.”  Alec lifts his glass, unsure what to do with his hands.  He takes another small drink.

Magnus does as well.  “What do you want to know?”

Alec shrugs.  He gazes over at where Magnus’s fingers are in his hair, thinks it looks just as soft as the rest of him.  “Anything.”

“I have,” Magnus starts after a moment, moving his hand from the back of the couch to his lap again, still leaned toward Alec with crossed legs, “exactly three best friends: Ragnor, Catarina, and Tessa.  Raphael – the leader of the New York Vampires, you may know him – is also dear to me, but don’t tell him I said so.  I have a condo in Paris, and I frequent London for work.  I was born in Indonesia in the sixteen-hundreds, which makes me some four-hundred odd years old.  But I lie about it  _constantly_.”  That’s more honest than Magnus has been with anyone in a long time.  He feels a little nervous—age-old instincts screeching at him to not be so forward with information—but he ignores it.  Focuses on the avid interest in Alec’s hazel eyes.  “I spent most of my time in London during Valentine’s second coming, I have a history with your parents, and two cats.”

“You have cats?”  Alec asks.

Magnus’s smile is disbelieving.  “That’s what got your attention?  Not that I know your parents?”

“I already knew that,” Alec says, looking around the room.  “Where are they?”

As if on cue, Church waddles out from Magnus’s bedroom.  He regards them with disdain and leaves the room once again with his tail in the air.

“Well, that’s Church,” Magnus says.  “He’s very—” Alec is pouting when Magnus looks over at him.  “Don’t look like that.  Church doesn’t like anyone.”

Alec’s expression doesn’t change.

“Honestly Alexander, it’s just a cat.”

His mouth stays tugged down.  He looks distressed.  And  _really_ , a man who hunts beings from hell is distraught over a cat not liking him? Magnus laughs, charmed out of his mind, and sets his wine down.  “Hold on,” he says, “I’ll get the Chairman.”  It’s his opinion that matters anyway.

Within minutes Chairman Meow is sitting on Alec’s lap, purring contently with those long fingers scratching at his head.  Magnus can understand the sentiment.

“I like that, you know,” Alec says, smiling down at the content ball of fur in his lap.

“The Chairman?”

“No,” he grins, “Well yeah, I like your cat.” He gives the animal an affectionate scratch behind the ears.  “But I mean—” Alec looks up at him, “When you…” His fingers still. “You know, when you call me…”

Magnus breathes out.  “‘Alexander’?”

Alec nods.

As the late night wears on, Magnus tells him a few wild tales about himself and Ragnor in Peru, all of which have Alec laughing until his throat hurts. Alec tells him about Rafael’s fifth birthday, when Jace had given Max too much cake and ended up wearing it and Rafael hadn’t let him feed Max anything for months afterward.  He tells Magnus a lot, actually.  He talks more than he thinks he’s ever talked in his life.  It comes easy; Alec feels so warm—their knees are set together, and at some point they’d moved closer, the space between their sides shrinking.  He can feel the heat coming off Magnus, the vodka in his drink making his head hazy.  He doesn’t think he’s felt this relaxed –  _ever_ , actually.

He glances up at the clock and it’s 1:33, somehow, two hours gone, completely unnoticed.  Alec looks at Magnus and finds dark rings forming under his eyes.   

Guilt wrapping around him, he makes to stand.  He’d only had two drinks but can feel them in his unsteady knees.  “Magnus, I should go.  You have to be at the school in…” Alec looks at the grandfather clock along the wall again. “Seven hours.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Magnus says, standing up as well. He makes to wave his hand, an action Alec recognizes as him about to conjure a portal.

Gently Alec holds his wrist to stop him.  “It’s- It’s okay,” he says, heart thudding until he lets go.  “You’re tired.”

“You’re not walking back at two in the morning through the streets of New York,” Magnus says, shaking his head and peering up at Alec with a frown.  

“I’ll take the subway.”

“You’ll still need to walk eventually.  Let me-”

“Magnus, you’re  _exhausted_.”

“I’m alright.” He makes to cast the spell again. “I’m not having you walk home in the dark.”

Alec takes his upper arm, halting him again. “I’m a Shadowhunter,” he says, “I can take the subway.”  He keeps his hold on Magnus’s arm along with his gaze. “It’s okay.”

Magnus searches Alec’s eyes a moment.  He must find something he likes, because he sighs, nothing more than a light huff, and drops his arm. “Alright big-bad demon hunter, you win.  But you’re going to text me when you’re home.”

Alec smiles back, hapless.  

Taking his arm, Magnus leads him to the door.  Alec hasn’t ever been walked to a door before, not like this, not after drinks and not-so-casual flirting and an apology he’s still sure hadn’t been enough.  He grips the door handle.  But something turns him around, his insecurity or the knowledge that he’ll get to stare at Magnus again.  Alec looks at his mouth.  He wouldn’t dream of actually kissing him—not now, not after these past weeks; except Magnus is staring at his and  _he’s_ the one leaning up, fingers finding the sleeves of Alec’s jacket.

He’s just sucking in a sharp breath –

When the door opens behind him.

“Well well,” says a voice laden with a vindictive confidence that thickens the air in the room, “ _this_ looks cozy.”

Alec turns around.  He finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with a woman.  Her brown hair falls to her knees.  She’s wearing bright red lipstick and a fitted gold dress, both of which would remind him of Izzy if they were on anybody else.

Nothing about this woman reminds him of his sister.

“Camille,” Magnus says, sounding a little off-kilter.  He gathers himself and folds his arms.  “Why are you here?”

“What, I can’t drop by to see my magic man?”  She walks into the flat, something slinking about her careful steps.  Her eyes seem to roam around like a snake’s.  She stops behind them.  Alec turns to face her, as does Magnus.  “I see you’ve found yourself a," her gaze shines at Alec, _“temporary_ fix, Magnus,” she says.

Magnus stiffens, Alexander’s admission from earlier running through his mind. He looks at Alec, afraid of finding his features horrified and broken.  But when he glances over, Alec just looks angry.

“You can’t stop, can you?” Camille says, “One after another, like a little kid in a candy store.  Slut of the century.”

Alec steps out in front of Magnus.

Camille laughs.  “Oh mortals  _are_ endearing. Don’t make your life any shorter than it already is, sweetheart.”

Alec hadn’t thought anyone could get under Magnus’s skin.  But his stiff expression and the defensiveness in his posture say otherwise.  He glares down at her, thankful for his height.  “You’re interrupting our evening. You might have time to waste but as a  _mortal_ ,” he hardens his eyes, “my time is precious.”  He doesn't know where it comes from, only that this woman is trying to get to Magnus, is trying to hurt him, and Alec doesn't like it, that 'slut of the century' comment or the casual way she speaks, as if she does this often.

Camille laughs at him again, and this time he can see fangs.  Vampire.  “Oh you’ve found yourself a dog that  _barks_ , how enchanting,” she says, looking past Alec at Magnus.  Then she tilts her head up, fingers on her bottom lip, and studies Alec’s frame up and down. “And look at those arms.  My my gorgeous, if you’re into the ever-lasting I’ve got more time on my hands for you than this old witch.”

He doesn’t flinch.  “I’m gay,” Alec says.

She looks at him, biting her finger between her lips coyly. “I could fix  _that_.”

Magnus grabs his wrist and is pulling Alec toward him, coming to stand in front of him.  He shakes his head, as if telling Alec not to bother. “Camille,” Magnus says, no longer sounding perturbed by her, “ _what_ do you want?”

“Magnus, my love,” her eyes flick to Alec for a moment.  Alec keeps his expression steeled. “Can we talk?  _Privately_?”

They go into Magnus’s kitchen.  Alec waits in the living room, not about to leave Magnus alone with this Camille woman—whoever she is.  He paces around the room, picking up bits of their conversation.  It sounds, for the most part, like it’s just about work.  

It dawns on Alec, eventually, that he’s heard her name before.  ‘Camille’ was the name of the previous leader of the New York Vampires.

Magnus clearly knows her. They’re both immortal, and even Alec can tell they’d been close, at some point.

Had they dated?

They come out about twenty minutes later.  Camille stops at the door for a moment.  “You’re the Shadowhunter with the little blue Warlock, aren’t you.”  She winks at him. “Single fathers are always sexy, ephemeral or not.  But how must it feel, I wonder, to know you’ll fade from the mind of the child who loves you?”  With a small laugh she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

“She seems nice,” Alec says, deadpanned.

Magnus laughs.

Alec turns to face him. “What did she want?”

Magnus sighs, “Unfortunately, being the High Warlock of Brooklyn requires me to work with her.  Though she no longer leads the Vampires, she is still a powerful figure in the community,” he explains, waving a languid hand, “She came by to fill me in on some details about invading Vampires, it’s all very boring.” Magnus moves to set his fingers along Alec’s lower arm.  Alec feels a pulse soar up from the place of contact to his chest. “I’m sorry for what she said.”

“It’s not your fault.”  He wants to touch Magnus, somehow.  Put a hand over the one on his arm.  But guilt still claws at him, and Camille’s words are stuck in his head.  “She was worse to you.”

“Oh, I’m quite numb to it.  She’s white noise to me.”  Magnus grins, “I’m more upset that she interrupted us.  What were we doing again?  You’ll have to remind me.”

“We…” Alec’s eyes drop to his pink mouth for about the hundredth time.  His body seems to contract, constrict, begging him to move.  “I-”

Alec’s phone rings.

Magnus laughs, dropping his head and gripping Alec's arm a little tighter. “It seems we are destined to be ever interrupted," he says, but he's smiling.

"Sorry," he tries to make it show on his face, "I have to..." Magnus waves a hand to tell him to go ahead.  Alec wouldn’t pick it up but it’s Jace’s ringtone, which means it’s probably—

“Dad?”

“Hey, Raf.”

“Is everything okay?” Alec is only ever out this late for work, the demon-hunting kind.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, holding the phone away from his ear a little so they can both hear, “I’m still with Magnus.”

“Hello, little Shadowhunter,” Magnus says.

“H-Hi,” Rafael trips over the word, a little surprised, “Are you gonna teach Max again?”

“A brood of Shax demons could not stop me.”

Alec rolls his eyes at the over-dramatic comment. Magnus grins up at him.

“Dad,” Rafael sounds nervous, and it draws Alec's attention back in. “Are you coming home?”

“I’ll be there soon, Raf.  I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure you put Jace’s phone back.”

“I know.”

“And go to sleep.  I’m on my way.”

“Okay.  Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight.”

Alec puts his phone away.

Magnus walks him to the door again.  Alec grips at the handle again.  He thinks he’d better just leave, that it’s too soon for anything other than a worded goodbye.

Magnus says, “Turn around.”

Alec does.

A slowly-becoming familiar touch then, with Magnus’s palm on the back of Alec’s hand, holding it up.  Alec stares down, watching.  Magnus places his free hand over theirs, cupping Alec’s between both of his.  It’s warm, and then it’s hot, and he can feel Magnus’s magic all the way up his arms.

When he lets go, Alec smiles at the rose lying in his open palm.

 

* * *

 

Alec places the rose in the vase with the others when he gets home.  He changes for bed and brushes his teeth, adrenaline still lingering from having spent hours with Magnus.

He hadn’t thought for a second things would turn out like this.  Still feels guilty, but he’s happy, too.

Before he goes to bed, Alec walks down the hall and steps into Rafael’s room, where Max is still sleeping.  He snaps a quick picture and sends it to Magnus, along with a message.

_made it home_

A reply comes in seconds.

 _That is the cutest blueberry I’ve ever seen_.

_can u come over tomorrow? 2 surprise Max? if u want_

_I think I can manage that. I work all day, but around 7pm?_

Alec smiles.  _7’s good._

He hesitates a moment, but can’t find a reason not to type out and send it.

_night Magnus_

_Goodnight, Alexander._

 

 

 


	13. Toe-to-Toe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com)<3

“ _Dad_.”  Two brown eyes peer at him from the side of Alec’s bed, shaking his shoulders gently.  Rafael breathes out before he asks, “How’d it go?”

Alec wipes at his face, sitting up.  His head throbs, screaming at him over only four hours of sleep.  Rafael crawls onto the bed, placing himself in the spot next to Alec’s elbow.

“Morning, Raf.”

“How’d it go?”

Alec yawns. “He’s gonna teach Max again.  You called, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant.”  His big brown eyes roll.  He doesn’t explain himself, but Alec can guess.  Instead, he asks, “Is Max gonna go to school today?”

Alec had considered it, but in the end he thinks it would be a little too much for Max to handle.  “Magnus is coming over tonight to surprise him,” he says, watching Rafael carefully.

But his son only nods as if they’re sharing a great secret.  “That’s good.  Max’ll be happy.”

“You need to be happy too, Raf,” Alec says, watching him with steady eyes.  It’s sad and honestly a little scary that his seven-year-old can forget about himself so easily.

Raf looks at him a moment, then begins picking at a loose thread on the comforter.  “You know, when he left it was like Max went away again anyway.”  He says it in an awkward, jumbled rush, so it takes Alec a moment to catch on. When he does his heart pangs, watching Rafael’s downcast face, but he doesn’t let himself think about it longer than he needs to.

After they talk, he sends Raf back to his room to get ready for school, and heads down to the kitchen to start breakfast.  He doesn’t have to be at the Seelie Court at all today, which while fantastic, means he has plenty of time to catch up on an ever-mounting pile of paperwork.  He also needs to start thinking about buying suits for the boys and himself for the wedding.  Alec wonders if would be a smart move, politically, to take them all to Downworlder shops.  The wedding is on Seelie territory, and one of his sons is a Downworlder, and he’s trying to push this treaty.  Max and Raf would love it, too.

Max comes in the kitchen with Rafael half an hour later, his hair a mess and yawning.  He still looks just as lightless and it takes everything Alec has not to spoil the surprise, then and there.

 

* * *

 

Max is mopey all day long, just like he has been for the past three weeks.  It must have something to do with magic—Alec knows he misses Magnus but kids as young as Max have a way of forgetting sad things, momentarily, their brains not fully developed enough to understand ‘never again’ or even the real meaning of the progression of time.  They eventually, for awhile at least, start to play again.

But Max just sits on the couch in Alec’s office, pouting.  He’d brought in some books, games, puzzles, and even the DS Jace had gotten him behind Alec’s back—but they’re just sat on the floor, useless and ignored.

When he’s sure Max isn’t paying attention, Alec snaps a picture and sends it to Magnus.

Five minutes later Max is sprawling upside down along the front of the couch with a pout as blue as the rest of him, and Alec sends a picture of that too, along with a message.

_is there smthing i can do abt this til u get here?_

Then he gets up, leaving his paperwork, and reads Max a book until he falls asleep.  Alec feels bad, patting Max’s hair while his head rests on the couch, but it’ll be worth it tonight.

He gets a text back around noon.  Alec had been joking, he’d just wanted Magnus to see how forlorn Max really is without him.  But the text reads:

_Has he done any magic lately?_

_no_

_He’s under stimulated. Young warlocks need to exercise their magic.  Old ones too, but we are generally in better control of our moods regardless.  There are a few spells in the level II book he quite likes._

Alec realized it well over a month ago, but he really doesn’t know anything about raising a Warlock.  He had asked Max about working on his magic, but Max didn’t want to, and Alec hadn’t thought it was a big deal—at least, not this big of a deal.

_ok, thank u. c u 2nite._

He thinks that’s it and puts his phone down, but it buzzes on the desk a moment later.

_Alexander we really need to do something about your texting.  How am I supposed to feel all warm and fuzzy over ‘c u 2nite’?_

Alec laughs, re-reading the message a few times.  He hadn’t really thought about it.  Texting had only ever been about convenience for him, either on a mission or looking after his kids.

He’d never thought about it as a way to make someone feel anything.

_Sorry._

_Oh don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry, it’s just a text and I’m being too controlling.  Please feel free to use your abbreviations._

Alec laughs again.  Magnus isn’t usually this indecisive, or retractive.  Is he nervous about something?

_I don’t mind.  See you tonight, Magnus._

Alec gets Max the right spell book and after some whiney arguing Max does use it. He starts turning the colours of anything and everything in the room, frosting the windows, drawing flowers and plants on the walls that eventually fade.  The room is lit with magic, and Alec finds it helps him concentrate on his work, somehow.

But when Max is finished he’s frowning again, sat on the floor and watching his magic flowers dissolve slowly from the walls, and Alec thinks in the end he just misses Magnus.

 

* * *

 

When seven pm arrives Alec is so excited his heart nearly forgets to leap into his throat at the sight of Magnus when he portals into the Institute.

Nearly.

He stares wide-eyed at Magnus and takes in all of him, the glitter and the eyeliner and the bronze skin.  It’s like a cool breeze in the middle of a hot day, to see him like this and for things between them to be alright.  His shirt is silver with a darker pattern imprinted through it, hugs his torso in a way that tugs at Alec’s eyes.

“Hi,” he says, forcing his gaze back up.

Magnus grins but it’s not a calculated one, isn’t trying to be kind or careful or flirty, isn’t trying at all.  It’s a little lopsided.

Alec wonders if his heart is in his throat too, or if he’s just jumping to crazy conclusions.

“Hello, Alexander.”

“Magnus,” he says, a little unhinged, “Um, I need to tell you something, before you see Max.”

“Okay.”

The grin falls from his face and Alec feels a little cold at the loss of it, but this is important.  He starts walking, Magnus following him, the two of them side-by-side.

“When Max came back here, every time after the Clave took him away, he was really distant.  It’s part of- It’s the attachment thing.  He used to have a hard time,” Alec searches for the right way to say it, waving a hand around without purpose and staring ahead as he talks, “forming bonds.  He was used to them not lasting, you know?  So he wouldn’t want to get close to us again.  And he might…”  Alec pushes the button for the elevator, “He might not seem happy to see you.  He might even ignore you… But it’s not  _you_ , it’s everything he’s been through.  And he’ll warm back up to you, he just might need some time,” Alec finishes.

The elevator arrives and they step in. Alec pushes the button for the floor of the training room, where Max and Rafael are.

He can tell Magnus is surprised that he’s sharing this much with him by the raised eyebrows and wide eyes.  But Alec had promised to tell him what’s going on in his head, and he’d meant it.

“Is there anything I should do?” Magnus asks.

Alec feels one corner of his mouth tug up.  He shakes his head and says in a heavy breath, “I just wanted you to know.”

The elevator dings.  Alec is stuck staring at the way Magnus’s chest clearly tightens like he’s not breathing for a moment—

“Ready?” He asks, to snap himself out of it.

Magnus smiles, his chest rising and falling again.

They walk to the training room and Alec pushes the double metal doors open.

“Max?” Alec calls, sticking his head inside the room.  Max is sitting on the floor, casting balls of light up into the air for Rafael to shoot arrows at.  They both stop and turn their heads.

Alec grins at his younger son.  “Someone’s here to see you.”

“Huh?”

Still grinning he walks further into the room, moving out of Max’s line of vision.

The tiny gasp is almost comical.

“Hi, blueberry.”

For a moment Max just freezes, sat on the floor.  He blinks three times.

And then, throwing all of Alec’s prior assumptions to the dust, Max leaps to his feet squealing and _runs_ at Magnus.  Purple sparks streak the floor as he goes.  Magnus’s grin is Earth-shattering, is drenched in affection and is a smile Alec’s never seen on him.  He kneels down and catches Max in a hug, laughing as the force knocks him onto his rear.

“ _Magnus_!”  Max says, his fingers coming up to touch at his chin and around his eyes, “Dad!”  He doesn't take his eyes off Magnus. “Magnus is here!”

Alec laughs. “I know, Max.”

Max grabs both sides of Magnus’s face, as if to hold him there.

Magnus searches blue eyes for a moment, then something inside him crumbles, weak, and he wraps two arms around Max and smothers him in a hug, kissing him on the head.  “My god I missed you,” he says.  Feels the familiar warmth of his magic pulsing, the steady thumping of a small heart, the tiny fingers that have found their way to his shirt, bunching the fabric up in small fists. 

Max giggles senselessly when Magnus kisses his cheeks. “Me too, Magnus, me  _too_ ,” he says and then laughs again, but his eyes are collecting tears.  “Dad said you were gone!”

“Never.” Magnus wipes under Max’s eyes with a thumb.  Nothing about himself feels composed, his own face lost to love and falling apart.  He remembers the weeks watching a frustrated Max unable to unlock his magic, the night here he’d done it and the way he’d climbed into Magnus’s lap to share theirs together.  Magnus remembers the look in his eyes when he’d seen his mother, the fear in Alec’s voice when he’d called, and the limp blue body on that hospital bed.  How cold it felt.  And then the shaking relief when he’d opened his eyes, their magic flowing through each other like a lifeline.

He remembers every day spent with him, all the questions Max had asked, all the times he'd looked at Magnus for help; how empty everything had felt without him.

Magnus tries to hold his breath to hold back tears, but air shakes out of him in limping heaps, corrugated and tangled.  He holds Max tighter. “I’ll never leave you, not again, Max.”  He kisses his blue forehead, lingering until it feels like it’s enough.

Max pats gently under his green eyes.  “Don’t cry, Magnus.” His voice is just a whisper.

Alec watches as his son’s hands relax where they're on Magnus’s face and all the tension tapers off from Max’s shoulders.  Sees the happy devastation in Magnus’s eyes—which aren’t glamoured, the trick lost to him now.  It shifts to the protective look of a parent, obligation born from a love he can’t control. Alec knows the feeling. He's felt it exactly twice in his life.

He watches Magnus holding his son and his stomach flips, warm and nervous all at once.

He wants to go over and hold them both, but it’s too soon, and without Rafael it’s not right. Instead, Alec walks over to his older son, dropping down to one knee with a grin to give him a big, loud kiss on his cheek.

“Dad!” Raf rubs at the spot.

Alec gives him another one, wrapping Raf in his arms and lifting him up.  He’d be too big for most people, but Alec is nearly two meters tall and has no problem lifting him high off the ground.  “I love you, you know that right?”

Rafael rolls his eyes. But he leans into his dad, putting his hands over Alec’s shoulders.  “I know.  You too.”

For the next two hours Alec and Raf alternate between going over drills of their own, and watching Magnus with Max as he reviews old spells and shows him new ones.  

It’s like they’re in their own little world again, some small space meant just for them.  Max is laughing as Magnus summons a tiny blue bird local to the Seelie Realm, and goes still and awe-struck when it lands on his hand.  He tries the spell himself and when he gets it Max cheers, looking up at Magnus for praise he gives readily and with a fond smile.

Alec is so happy he’d been wrong about Max’s reaction to seeing Magnus again.  It makes him think for the first time that he’s actually making a difference, that one year of stability has given Max enough confidence to let himself love someone again.

When Max lets out a yawn that sweeps across the whole gym, Alec tells him it’s time for bed.  He whines and looks with long eyes up at his dad.

Alec smiles.  “Magnus can take you.”

It’s an instant game-changer.  Max’s blue face brightens about two shades with the light coming from him.  “Really????”  He turns his head to look at Magnus, who’s sat on the floor, and then back at Alec.  “Okay!  You both can!  Raf, you too!”

Rafael folds his arms.  “You don’t need _three_ people to put you to bed, Max.”

“Why not?” He asks in honest confusion.

“Because you-” Raf shrugs. “You just don’t.”

Max keeps still for a beat, puzzled, until Magnus sets a hand on his shoulder, having stood up.  “Shall we?”

Max takes the hand and drags Magnus over to Alec.  “Dad, c’mon.  It’s way past my bedtime,” he says, making it clear this is very serious business.  With that, he takes his dad’s hand too and starts pulling the both of them to the door.

Alec looks back at Raf.  He doesn’t usually go to bed until about ten, but the last thing Alec wants is to make him feel left out.  “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“No, I’ll stay here.”

“We’ll be right back.”

Alec watches the frown on Rafael’s face as he leaves, an idea coming to him as he’s lead towards Max’s room.  If the problem is that Raf had never had a chance to get to know Magnus, the solution was easy enough.

Max crawls into bed without a complaint, talking like a hummingbird flies.  He asks a million question that Magnus answers with the practiced patience of a teacher.  Alec stays stood by the door, wanting to give them more time with just each other.  When Magnus pulls the flower-patterned comforter over Max’s small body and sits on the bed to play with his hair, smiling like Max is the sun and the whole world wouldn’t go on without him, Alec’s throat goes dry and his stomach flips for the second time and he has to take a seat.  He sits in Max’s desk chair, tries to look like his heart isn’t about to burst.

After a few minutes, Max’s soft sleep-breaths fill the room.  Magnus leans over and kisses his head, and the calmest, most content sigh Alec has ever heard falls from Max before Magnus says, “Goodnight, blueberry.”

When he stands up, Alec stands with him.  Magnus walks over, his cat eyes still out.  “Thank you,” he says.

Alec shakes his head.  “No, I…” That’s not right, Magnus shouldn’t be thanking him.  "I'm trying to say I'm sorry. For everything."

Magnus frowns. "You already apologized, Alexander."

"You can do this whenever you want. You can... This-" Alec's words fail him, as they often do, and he exhales, frustrated with himself.

"It's alright, Alec."

"I was an idiot.  Why didn't I just _talk_ to you?"

Magnus frowns again. "You're _not_ an idiot. Emotions are complicated, and trust is even harder. But please," he steps closer, his shoulders swinging, "for my sake?" He starts to smile. "Put it behind us." Magnus's head tilts up a little and his smile lifts to candid affection. "I forgive you. You had your reasons, all of which you explained, and you've more than made it up to me."

"I'll keep trying."

Magnus's heart flutters. He feels his smile bloom wider.  He's about to tell Alec he doesn't need to, but his gaze is imploring in a way Magnus can't refuse. "Okay.  Thank you," he says.

"For what?"  
  
Magnus smirks. Knowing Alec will realize it's not the whole truth, he says, "For letting me put Max to sleep, of course."

Alec doesn’t want it to seem like he needs permission to put Max to bed, as if Alec is _letting_ him see his son.  That’s never how he felt, even when he was pushing Magnus away. “You really shouldn't thank me.” He grins. “I used you as bribery.”

Magnus laughs, quiet enough to not wake Max.  “Oh I see.  You’re only in this for co-parenting perks.  You need somewhere to leave them on the weekends so you can go gallivant around town, one clandestine meeting after another.  That is _scandalous_ , Alexander.  But I suppose all of New York will thank me for letting you loose.”

Alec does not know what to say to that.  He just laughs, more than a little lost.  “What?”

“I don’t know,” Magnus’s hands drop to his sides.  He rubs his thumb and fingers together, fidgeting.  “Alec, I’m a little-” he looks back at Max for a moment, then at Alec again, “I’ve never… I haven’t cared about someone in a long time, and I’ve _never_ felt like…”

He doesn’t finish.

“We can slow this down, Magnus,” Alec says, staring at the distance between them.  It’s not much but it seems like too much anyway.

“What do you mean by ‘this’? Which ‘this’?  You and I, or me and Max?  Because one of those is already at a glacial pace.”  He waves a hand.  “Not that it matters.  No, I don’t want to slow anything down.  I’m just a bit overwhelmed.  How- Why are you smiling, Alexander?  Is my distress funny to you?  I’m having a midlife- well no, that’s not right, but I’m having _some_ sort of crisis here.  I never thought I’d want to… I’d pictured myself quite alone after Camille, and I’m glad _you_ find it all very funny but _I_ -”

Alec laughs.  He pulls Magnus into the hall, not wanting to wake Max up.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” he says, after he’s shut the door behind them.  “I mean it’s a little funny,” Alec just grins when Magnus sneers at him, “I think- I was just, I was thinking-” he rubs at the smile that’s taken over his mouth, “You’re really…”

“What?”  Magnus looks rattled, like someone’s pulled the rug from underneath his expensive shoes.

Alec grins wider, eyes dropping down to the glitter and eyelashes and cat’s eyes and defensive expression.  He can’t believe that Magnus is flustered over becoming attached to Alec’s son.  That this four-hundred-year-old High Warlock is _ruffled_ over the love of a child.  

“Cute,” Alec says.

Magnus’s face goes blank, lips parting for a second in confusion and surprise, as if he’s wondering whether he’d misheard.  It’s _adorable_.  And then Magnus is smiling and it’s more than that, something better, all his defences dropping – as if Alec had said the right thing, for once.

He wishes they’d had a first kiss already, so he could pull Magnus in for a quick one. But they hadn’t yet and he wants it to be special, somehow, and this corridor isn’t going to cut it.

“I need a favour,” Alec says.

Magnus raises an eyebrow.  “A favour?”

“Yeah,” he lets his arm run up against Magnus’s as they walk down the hall, “About Raf.  I was thinking – if you wanted to...”

 

* * *

 

Rafael is sitting on the floor, thinking about what to wear to aunt Izzy’s and Clary’s wedding and about that Warlock taking Max upstairs (but dad’s there too so it’s okay – it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay) when a sharp _zip!_ and a groaning _pop!_ echo throughout the gym.

He turns around, shadowhunter-quick, to see Magnus standing behind him.  There’s a fire burning in his open palm, floating just above his hand.

Dad is there too, standing along the railing.

Rafael relaxes.

“So, little Shadowhunter,” the Warlocks says, his eyes green and slit like a cat’s, “Ever gone toe-to-toe with a High Warlock?”

His voice is booming and daring and for a moment, Rafael is really afraid—but dad’s there, he’s right at the railing still, and he gives a nod and dad never lets anyone hurt him.  So he picks up his seraph blade and digs his bare feet into the rubber mat, ready.

“You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Alec tenses when Magnus throws the first ball of fire at his seven-year-old.  He’d explained it to Alec, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

Raf is quick, and he manages to dodge every single flame – even the ones Magnus has chasing him around the room like tiny, heat-seeking dragons – for over half an hour.  Alec knows Magnus isn’t fighting his seven-year-old with all the untold powers of a High Warlock but still, he finds himself smiling, proud of Rafael all the same for being able to evade his magic.

When one ball of fire finally hits Rafael, he shouts as if something’s seared him. Then he blinks down at his arm, confused to find the skin uncharred.

Magnus immediately dissipates the fireballs and the dragons skirting around the room.  Then he walks over and crouches down next to Rafael, leaving enough space between them to be comfortable.

Rafael is scowling, but not at Magnus.  He’s looking at the spot he’d gotten hit.

“This is one of the Warlocks’ best kept secrets,” Magnus begins, lighting a flame over his palm, “It’s a very old one, and should you try to tell it to another person, you’ll find yourself unable.”

Rafael does frown at him, now.

Magnus smiles, “You’ve learned that face from your father.”

“What’s the secret?”

He smiles at him a bit longer before he continues.  “This fire,” Magnus says, running his free hand through it, “is an illusion.  It only burns if you _think_ it will.”  He holds it out to Rafael. “Warlocks have emptied whole cities with it, centuries ago.” There are regulations in place now.

Rafael studies him, but Magus waits patiently.

“Why’re you telling  _me_ , then, if it’s such an important secret?”

Magnus has heard a lot of sad things in his life, but the sentence clings to his insides, the deeper meaning clear.  

“Your little brother is a Warlock, raised by Shadowhunters.  He knows all your tricks, Rafael.  But you know none of his.”  Magnus grins. “Max won’t learn this spell until he’s old enough to train with you, but when he does, you’ll be ready.”

He holds the fire out a little farther.

Rafael glances at Alec, who nods.  Then he looks at Magnus again.  At his cat eyes and Monae antique shirt and the expensive dye in his hair.

Tentatively, he slides his fingers through the flames, taking a deep breath.

It’s hot and it tickles, but other than that, there’s nothing.

“It feels like air,” he says, dancing his fingers through it.

Magnus keeps his gaze steady on Rafael. “You can always tell Warlock fire by the colour.  It’s is just slightly more yellow.”  He puts the flame out when Rafael takes his hand away.

Rafael stares at him a moment, as guarded and accusing as ever, but more nervous than anything.  Like a cat backed into the dead end of an ally.

“I’m gonna go get changed.”

And with that, the little Shadowhunter scurries off towards a changing room somewhere.  Watching him run away reminds Magnus entirely of his father.

He stands up, walking over to Alec.

“Thank you,” Alec says.

“I’m not sure what I did,” Magnus replies, “He seems to distrust me more and more.”

Alec shakes his head.  “It takes him awhile to warm up to most people, and…”  Alec had told him about how Rafael doesn’t trust him because he’s a Warlock, and the only other Warlock they know besides Max is Allison. “But like I said it doesn’t need to be like Max.  You don’t have to get to know Raf because maybe we won’t work and there’s no point then and if you want you can just be there for Max or- not even that, Magnus-”

“Alexander, stop.”  He puts a hand on Alec’s arm. “At the very _least_ I want to get to know him.  The rest can wait.”

Alec stares at him and then sighs, forcing the strain out of himself.  He leans into Magnus’s touch.  “We should probably go on a date,” he says, words wrapped in a nervous breath.

“Probably?” Magnus snorts softly.  “Such a romantic. I’m about to swoon.”

Alec laughs.

When Rafael comes back, Alec and Magnus are scrutinized by darting brown eyes, as if he knows they’d talked about him while he was gone.  “ _What_?” he says, hands on his hips.

Magnus’s face breaks into a splitting grin. “Rafael, how did you manage to acquire such remarkable tastes?”

“Huh?”

“Those shoes are Burberry and that necklace is Givenchy and I’m wondering how someone like your father, who couldn’t tell Van Noten from Chloé and insists his black boots go with everything, managed to raise someone who knows how to accessorize.”

After gaping for a few seconds, Rafael barks out a laugh. “Dad _is_ pretty useless as this stuff.  He tried to wear a red button-up and navy pants yesterday,” he says, shaking his head.

Magnus feigns a gasps.  “A true horror.”

“And he owns, like, _seven_ of the same shirt.”

“I don’t know how you deal with it, little Shadowhunter.”

“Me neither.” Rafael looks up at Magnus, meeting his eyes with his typical careful glance, but there is a shyness to it, a quiet curiosity. “He’s hopeless.”

Even though they’re teasing him, Alec can only smile.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You know, when he left it was like Max went away again anyway.” That line is 100% Anna’s fault. 
> 
> Thank you for so much for all the comments! Please come talk with me on tumblr [[HERE](http://chairmanmeow-and-church.tumblr.com/)]. :) I'm so excited for everyone to read this ch so seriously talk to me <3


	14. More Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I wouldn't update until Sunday PSYCH I LIED.
> 
> Beta'd by [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) ❤︎

They don’t get to go on a date.  They don’t even get to plan one.  They try, but one is always busy when the other isn’t. Alec still has meetings with the Seelies, and as a High Warlock, Magnus’s schedule is infernal and sporadic.  Alec sees him every morning when he drops Max off at school, for a brief moment that sweeps him up and into some high part of some sky they both share, one meant to hold only the two of them.  But he comes crashing down from it too soon, when Magnus has to greet another parent or attend to a student and Alec has to leave for work.  They’re never alone. Magnus sends him texts that are just as flirty as he is in person, that sometimes make Alec’s ears go red, and Alec sends him pictures of Max and even one of Rafael when he’d been helping size Clary’s dress and Alec couldn’t get over how adult he’d looked, measuring her and poking pins in thread for tailoring.  But it’s not enough.

Alec’s starting to get a little irritated.  They’d finally worked things out, and despite all his worries, his guilt about the future, he really _likes_ Magnus.  He wants to see him. Every time Alec does his whole world turns colourful and wild.  He’s never liked anyone before, not since Jace, and that was Alec being young and confused, doesn’t count.  Being around Magnus is nothing like being around Jace.

Except when Magnus holds Max. Then it’s a lot like being around Jace, around family, but even then it’s still a bit different.  There’s something else mixed in there too, a connecting thread twining around Alec that isn’t like his parabatai bond with Jace, or the way he loves Izzy or his kids.  It’s not any more or any less, just different.  Alec doesn’t know what it is, this feeling that’s somewhere between familial love and wanting to kiss Magnus until he forgets his own name.  

“Alec Lightwood,” the Queen of Faeries cuts through his thoughts.  Her black face forces her whole-white eyes to stand out even more than they would otherwise.  “The expression on your face is very telling and I am sorry to pull you from such kind thoughts but you must, Shadowhunter, pay attention - for both of our sakes.”  She says it low enough so no one at the meeting seems to hear.

Alec’s face goes red.  “Sorry.”

Aralola smiles at him.  “You followed your heart, then?”

“I thought we needed to pay attention,” he says to avoid the question.

She smiles again and turns her gaze back to the meeting.

 

* * *

 

Normally Izzy picks Max up from school, since Alec isn’t back at the Institute until five pm or so, but he leaves the Faerie Court early today.  He’s taking Max and Rafael out shopping for suits.  The wedding is in less than a month, and both his sister and his soon-to-be sister-in-law will kill him if he leaves it to the last minute.

He goes to the Institute to pick up Rafael, and then drives them to Max’s school.

For the most part, the other parents have completely ignored Alec and Isabelle when they’ve dropped off and picked up Max.  A few people have made some rude remarks, but generally no one talks to them aside from Magnus and some of the students.  

Today, however, when Alec walks in — Magnus had altered the wards to let him inside despite not being a Warlock, though Alec had never asked him to — a woman makes her way over to him before he’s half-way through the lobby.  She looks southeast Asian, is nearly his height, and has small, grey horns.

She smiles at Alec. “You’re Max’s dad, right?”  He nods.  Rafael steps closer to him.  The woman reaches a hand out. “I’m Kanya.  My daughter is Mali?”  He recognizes ‘Mali,’ having heard Max talk about her often.

“I’m Alec,” he says, shaking her hand, “I guess our kids are friends?”

She nods, saying, “I don’t want to overstep or anything, but Mali was really sad Max was gone. I know Warlocks and Shadowhunters have more sore spots than most groups in our world, so it must be hard sometimes – but I only ever hear good things about Max, and I don’t…” Kanya trails off, looking a little sheepish.  “Sorry.  I just wanted to say I support you raising him,” she laughs but he can tell it’s out of nervousness and not insincerity. “I’ve seen some of the other parents give you a hard time, and it’s not right.  If Max ever wants to come over to our house, or if Max wanted to have Mali over, it’s fine with me,” she finishes, giving him a steady, honest stare.

Alec, taken aback, hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head. “Sorry.” He smiles.  “Thank you.” There have really only been four or five times another parent has said anything negative to him about being a Shadowhunter.  Alec doesn’t care, as long as they leave Max alone.  But it’s still relieving to have someone say something nice like this to him.  

Kanya smiles. “I’m serious, Max can come over whenever.  Here.” She pulls out a piece of paper from her purse and waves a hand over it.  Alec watches her cell number appear.  Kanya hands it to him. “No pressure or anything.  And I am _not_ coming on to you, I swear,” she laughs and points to a woman inside the classroom with black hair and blue skin so dark it nearly matches, “That’s my wife.” She turns back to Alec. “So feel free to text me or call, whichever, if you want to set up a playdate.”

Alec takes the paper and slides it into his front pocket.  “I will. Max would love it,” he says, “Thanks.”

Kanya smiles at him once more before she heads into the classroom to collect her wife and daughter.  Alec just stares, a little wistful.

“Popular as ever, Alexander.”

He jumps internally when Magnus’s voice hits his ears.

“And hello, Rafael.”  Magnus looks down at his son, eyes scanning his outfit.  He’s wearing a dark red sweater with faded roses twirling all around it, the pattern only visible in strong light.  His pants are black, cuffs rolled up, and below that are a sharp looking pair of burgundy high-tops.  “Dashing as the last time I saw you.”

Rafael goes a little red.

Alec says, “She gave me her number for a playdate.”  When Magnus looks at him Alec can hear the innuendo he isn’t verbalizing—probably only because Rafael is with him—and he rushes to add, “For Max,” rolling his eyes.

But he smiles after.

“So what are the two of you up to today that has Rafael out of school?”

To Alec’s surprise, Raf answers.  “We’re going shopping for suits to aunt Izzy’s wedding.”

“Oh!” Magnus turns a little to look at him.  He doesn’t kneel down, but Rafael is at the age where that starts to feel demeaning.  Alec is careful about where and when he does it too.  “There are some fantastic little boutiques in the Downworlder side of Brooklyn.  Do you know them?”

Rafael’s eyes go wide. “Yeah,” he says and his face brightens only a fraction, nervous and repressed, but it’s the most intrigued Alec has seen him around Magnus, “Arsham’s and Tee Livana and- and- Monae’s,” he glances at his dad for a moment, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweater,“Aunt Izzy always takes me,” back at Magnus again, “Do you know Nedia?”

“The blond Faerie who hand-makes all her jewelry?”

Rafael nods.  “She made their rings – Aunt Izzy’s and Clary’s.”

“Oh, an excellent choice.  Yours I’m assuming?” Rafael nods again, an unsure smile slipping over his face.  Magnus hums and says, “Let me guess.  Polished sapphire for the biscuit, and moonstone for Isabelle?”

“How’d you know?” Rafael asks, eyebrow raised.

Magnus grins.  “A Warlock has his ways.”

Alec snorts, eyeing Magnus before he looks at his son. “I told him, Raf.”

“Or a Warlock has a well-informed Shadowhunter, whichever.”  Magnus grins at Rafael.  “Are you on your way now?  Shall I get your brother?”

Rafael stares up at Magnus, mouth open only enough to be noticed.  Alec watches him, waiting, because he knows Raf wants to say something.

“Do you…” He starts, the put-off tone sounding forced and feeble at best.  “Do you want to come with us?”

Alec’s stomach drops.  Not because Rafael had invited Magnus—but because Magnus will have to say no, is too busy to come with them, and hearing that ‘no’ will push Rafael right back into his shell, will put back up whatever walls he’d let down with regards to Magnus.  His dark face is red, he’s staring at Magnus’s shoes, and he’s about to get his heart crushed.

Alec is almost to him, mouth opening to explain, but Magnus speaks first.

“I’d _love_ that,” he says, grinning wide.

Rafael looks up at him.

“Everyone’s usually gone by three.  Do you have time to wait?” He asks, looking between Alec and his son.

“We can wait,” Alec says, watching Magnus with measured eyes for a moment.  But Magnus only smiles at him. Alec looks down at Rafael. “Raf, why don’t you go find Max.”  He knows Rafael will realize he’s only asking so he can talk to Magnus alone, but he leaves anyway, without a huff or even a snarky ‘fine.’

“Is something wrong?” Magnus asks once they’re alone, concern crowding the corners of his mouth.

“I thought you were busy,” Alec says.  It’s not accusatory, but worried.

There aren’t too many parents left, and only two or three students in the classroom behind them waiting to be picked up.  They’re relatively alone.

Magnus smiles at him, setting a hand on Alec’s lower arm.

Alec’s never had someone outside of family be physical with him, put a hand on his arm while they’re talking, set their knees together, hold his hand.  His body aches as soon as Magnus is touching him, and he realizes how much he’s missed it this past week.  How much he’d missed Magnus.  And he’d _already_ been missing him for almost a full month before, which makes the light touch on his arm even heavier.

“I couldn’t tell him no,” Magnus says as if it’s a law of the universe, like the sky being blue or water being wet—something nonnegotiable and unalterable. “I can move my meetings to tomorrow.”

Alec looks at him thoughtfully.  “You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

“But if your clients-”

“Alexander,” Magnus stops him, slides his fingers down his arm to Alec’s wrist, sets the tips of them on his bare skin, “some things are more important.  My clients can wait until tomorrow.”

Alec searches his eyes, which are glamoured but open and honest.  During their texts Magnus had told Alec who his most recent clients are.  The Nixie Maharani from India, who wants to export their wine to the Downworlders of America. The High Warlock of Los Angeles about a recent spike in human blood trafficking (according to Magnus, LA Vampires are ‘all but barbarian’ and prefer traditional vampirism, a problem the High Warlock and Shadowhunters in LA are finding difficult to get a handle on).  The Seelie Queen’s personal guard, searching for new spells to protect their forest and the Faerie Circle.    
  
Alec has been working in Downworlder politics long enough to know - they’re _not_ people you reschedule on.  

But Rafael would’ve been mortified if Magnus had rejected his offer, and Magnus had known that.  He cares enough to rearrange his work, to inconvenience important Downworlders, just to make Rafael happy.  

A warmth wraps around Alec’s heart, smothering and fervent, engulfing him.  Making him weak in a way he’s never known.

“Magnus…”  
  
Alec needs time to adjust, time he doesn’t have because Magnus is right there, smiling, becoming something so familiar.  “Don’t look at me like that,” Magnus says, his own face faltering like Alec’s and the fingers on his wrist slipping slowly underneath a sleeve, “I can’t do anything about it here.”

Alec feels his chest tighten.  He’s sure he just looks sappy; his own stupid expression would probably embarrass him even more if he could see it.  “It’s your fault,” he says, surprising himself.  His mouth goes dry.

Magnus’s lips part like he’s surprised too.  They are at his  _work_ , after all.  Alec needs to reel himself in about fifty yards.  They need to go on a date, so they can be alone and he can say these things and walk Magnus to the door to his building and hold _his_ face, this time, and pull him close, and tell him everything he can’t put into words with a kiss.  He’s never wanted something—someone—like this before.  The fingers under his sleeve trace a small circle just above his wrist, soft and sending all the hairs from his arm to the back of his neck on end.

With a regretful, diminished smile Magnus turns around and leaves, his hand on Alec until the last possible second.  

It’s probably for the best because Alec really doesn’t want to do anything, not in his son’s school, not with a few of his classmates just in the other room.  He watches Magnus go though, his nerves alight, unsure when or how exactly the conversation had turned temprid, and why only one small hardly-there press of his fingers is enough to send Alec’s whole body frantic.

He doesn’t stop watching Magnus until Max and Rafael are at his heels.

While they wait for the last students to be picked up by their parents, Max shows Alec and Raf around the classroom.  He’s definitely interested in learning more about what his son does all day, but finds he’s entirely forgotten what he’s seen the moment Magnus comes over and tells them he’s ready to go.

 

* * *

 

Magnus takes them to a boutique called _Aldora’s Formalwear for Faeries_ that sells, as the name says, formal wear for children.  It’s in a Downworlder district, a string of shops all owned and run by Seelies and the odd Vampire.  Mundanes can come in and shop, but strong glamours keep them unaware of the truth of what they’re seeing—and they hardly ever buy anything.

Alec likes Downworlder shops, though at first he’d steered clear of them for Max’s sake, never knowing when his mother might show up.  Now that she’s back, Alec is a little nervous again.  But they’d reported it to Lydia, who told the Clave, and Alec isn’t going to put his kids on lockdown because of it.  That’s what he’d done to Max before, and it hadn’t helped, had only cut him off from his people and his magic.  And between himself and Magnus?  He can’t imagine anything happening to Max.

They browse around for awhile, Magnus and Rafael laughing at a few choices Alec picks out before urging him to _please_ leave it to them.  Eventually the goal becomes finding Max a suit, as Rafael doesn’t see anything he likes. Magnus comes to the changing room with three draped over his arm, giving Alec half a heart attack at the sight, and causing a full one as Magnus helps Max change from one suit to another.

“What about you, Magnus?  What are you gonna wear?” Max asks as he struggles to get his arm into one sleeve of a navy blue suit with a shawl neckline.

Magnus smiles.  “I don’t believe I’m attending.”  He holds out the jacket so Max can slip his arm through.

“What?”  Max gapes. “Why?”  He points to Alec, gripping onto the sleeve of Magnus’s shirt, “You can go with Dad!”

By now Alec is plainly aware that both of his kids have figured him out, so he’s not all that surprised by Max’s exclamation.  

He would ask Magnus in a heartbeat, but he has to go with the Seelie Queen. Inviting the High Warlock of Brooklyn while he’s already going with Aralola would destroy any progress he’s made with the Seelies on the treaty, which affects more than just Alec.  

But he really wishes he could ask Magnus. Alec likes the Queen and it’s not her fault, she can’t know—but Alec _hates_ the idea of going with a woman at his date.  Not on principle or anything, he’s happy to go with the Queen as a friend it’s just...  His mother will be there and she’s going to say something, to hope he’s changed, even though Alec’s told her more than once that he’s gay.  Maryse won’t even mention that she’s a Downworlder.  She’ll just see that Alec’s brought a woman and her face will light up and he doesn’t want to do it, feels a hate he’s been trying to leave behind crawling towards him.  Disgust.  The way he’d used to see it when he was a teenager, before he’d talked with Izzy and she’d taken him to a few Downworlder bars and he’d talked to people there and before he’d had kids and realized if it was fine for them someday, then it was fine for him now.

Alec doesn’t want to go back to the way he’d felt at fifteen, and he doesn’t want to see his mother’s satisfied preening smile when he walks in with a woman on his arm.

He wants to watch his little sister get married without feeling like he's lying to himself and everyone around him.

He wants to take Magnus.  

“Complicated, political reasons,” Magnus says, answering Max’s question. “Your father is an important person and sometimes he doesn’t get to do what he wants.  He has to do what’s best for other people.”

Instead of arguing more, Max nods.  “Okay.  I understand.”

“That’s very mature of you, blueberry.”  Magnus smiles and pokes his nose.

Max giggles.  He looks back and forth from his dad to Magnus, grinning.

But then his face drops.

“Dad? Magnus?”  They both look at him, Magnus sat on a low cushion and Alec standing near the curtain of the fitting room.  “Where’s Raf?”

 

* * *

 

Rafael doesn’t know where he is.  One second he’d been picking up a white suit for Max to try on, and the next he’d found himself wandering through the same shop they’d been in, but an empty version.  No clothes, no signs, no Max no Dad no Magnus.  Nothing.  There are only empty clothing racks, an empty checkout desk, and the windows show nothing outside except white, neverending myst.  It’s cool, a little damp, and too quiet.

“Hello?” he calls into the sparse whiteness all around him.

Rafael jumps when a soft, slinking voice answers.

“Hello, Rafael Lightwood.”  She seems to sing his name.

He turns around on the heels of his high-tops to see a woman with brown hair to her knees and long, sharp, vampiric fangs.


	15. Little Dark Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) like always!

“Where is he?” Alec says for about the hundredth time, making another sweep of the store with his eyes and running a hand through his hair.  Bile rises up from his stomach.  How hadn’t he noticed Rafael going off on his own?  How could he let this happen?  Where the hell was his head?  Looking at Magnus and Max, forgetting about his other son—fucking waste of a father—

“ _Alec_ ,” Magnus says.  He’s holding Max in one arm, pressed to his hip. “Relax.”

“Relax?” Alec rounds on Magnus. “Relax?  While _she’s_ out there? While she’s looking for any reason to give the Clave to take Max away again?”

“He’s here somewhere,” Magnus says, moving closer.  He nods his head towards Max, as if to remind Alec he’s there and can hear him.

But Alec doesn’t notice, blood pooling behind his ears and rushing behind his eyes.  

“I don’t see him! It’s not that big in here, Magnus!”  If Raf were in the shop still, they would’ve found him by now.

“Dad I can feel him, he’s  _here_ ,” Max says. His hand is pressed over his chest.

“Max it doesn’t work like that, there are spells for tracking people.  You can’t just know.”  He says it with a sting to each word.  He never talks to Max like that, like he’s bothering Alec, but he’s starting to lose control of what he’s saying, panicked worry rolling over him in waves.

But Max is unfazed.  “No, I know.  With you n’ Raf I can tell.”

Alec ignores his five-year-old.  He looks at Magnus.  “Can you track him?”

“I can, but Max is right.”  His voice is anchoring Alec, keeping him on the thin wire of composure.  But barely. “He can read you both.  If he says Rafael is here," Magnus puts a hand on his arm but for once it doesn't make Alec feel anything, "then he’s here.”

 

* * *

 

“Who’re you?” Rafael says, immediately tensing up.

The woman smiles at him, but it’s not kind, not warm.

Dad’s around here somewhere.  He’s always around to keep Rafael safe.  He looks at this woman’s long brown hair and wonders if she thinks he’s stupid just because he’s a kid. “Did you do this?”

“I did.”

“Why?”  Rafael eyes scan the empty room.  “Where’d everything go?”

The woman steps closer.  A glint in her eyes doesn’t let Rafael move.  He knows somewhere in his mind it’s a Vampire charm, has studied them in school, but he can’t get away. “I just wanted to talk to you, my little dark flower. Can we do that?” She puts a finger under his chin and tilts his head up.  No one’s handled him that way before.  It makes Rafael feel weird. “Just chat?”

She sits on a bench that appears out of nowhere.  It looks eerie, that park bench in the middle of this white, void store.  She pats the spot next to her and Rafael sits, but not because he wants to.  She’s doing something.  He’s too young, too weak, to fight it.

“I want only to impart some wisdom on you, little one.” She smiles. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah.” Rafael’s voice sound hollow in his ears.  Where was he before he was here?  He can’t remember.

“The man your father is with, Magnus Bane,” – he thinks Magnus is actually really nice, he’s wanted to get to know him all this time but he only ever talked to Dad and Max and he thinks Magnus must not like him – “Rafael, you never know what a Warlock is thinking, especially him.”

“Magnus isn’t gonna hurt me,” he says it despite his head being like a cloud, drifting away from the world.

This woman’s teeth shine at Rafael. “Aren’t you worried about your little brother?”

He doesn’t say anything.  He feels felt fear pounding in the veins around his head.  Does Magnus want to hurt Max?  At one point he’d been so sure.  Had anything changed?  Rafael can’t remember.

“I know you must be,” the woman says, her voice seeming like a cool, comforting breeze in his ear.  “Warlocks, Vampires, any immortal – we don’t love like mortals do.  For us, you’re nothing but toys.  Magnus may deny it, but it’s true for him just as it is true for me.  Our kind don’t mix.”  She moves hair behind his ear, just like Dad does, looking at him sadly.  “Do you understand?”

Rafael thinks of the way Dad looks at Magnus, and the way Magnus holds Max.  “No,” he says.  But it’s a lie, it’s it?  He’s doubting everything all the time.  It’s always there, always buzzing, always pushing new people away.  Is Magnus someone he can trust? Hadn’t he hurt Max before?  No- No that was...

“It’s okay to doubt him, Rafael.” She runs her finger around his ear again.  She seems so nice, she seems like she cares, like she’s trying to help.  “You don’t know him. You’re not hurting anyone, or doing _anything_ really, by doubting him.” She holds his hand.  Hers is cold, but Rafael looks at her eyes and think they seem warm now. “You’re looking out for your father and your brother. You just want to be  _sure_.” She smiles softly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.  You’re a good brother and son, Rafael.”

When was the last time anyone has said that to him?  Dad’s _never_ said it. “Really?”  

“Of course.” She smiles and pats his hair. “I want to give you something, okay?  So you can talk to me whenever you want.”

Rafael thinks that seems like a good idea.  She’s really nice to talk to.  “Okay,” he says.

She holds out a necklace with a curling, dark purple flower.  It’s made of tanzanite, which he knows from talking to Nedia, the Faerie who made the rings for aunt Izzy and Clary.  It sparkles in the foggy light of the shop and it keeps his thoughts quiet.

“Take it,” the woman says, nodding at him.

Rafael takes it and puts it over his neck. She tucks it under his shirt.

“Before I let you go, I want you to remember.” She looks at him seriously.  Rafael matches her gaze, listening intently.  “Magnus has been alive for centuries, and he’s met thousands of people who have grown old and died on him.  Does he ever talk about them?” Rafael shakes his head; he’s never heard Dad say anything. She grips his arm and it almost hurts.  “You will be the dead he never talks about, someday.”

The words sink into his head like a dull knife. Pounding. Blunt.

“Don’t forget,” she says.

There’s a bright flash, and then he’s standing inside the boutique with all the clothes, people, and sounds again.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s heart nearly collapses when he turns a corner, one he’s looked around a hundred times, and Rafael is there, standing beside a rack of skirts.

“ _Rafael!_ ”  Isabelle calls that his Dad Voice, because it reminds her of their father, who was alway too protective.  He means to scold him, maybe even to yell, mostly out of fear.  But when those brown eyes look up at him Alec just falls to his knees and drags his son into his arms.  He holds on tight.  He sticks his nose against Rafael’s cheek and breathes, arms shaking.

“Dad…”

“Where the hell were you?” Alec whispers into his hair.

“Did you find him?” Magnus says, coming around the same corner, his tone as panicked as Alec feels.

“Magnus.”

Alec pulls back and looks at his son.  He’s never said Magnus’s name _to_ Magnus before.  And there’s something dreamy about the way he’d spoken, like he’s talking in his sleep.  Alec turns to look at Magnus, who looks back at him with uncertainty in his cat eyes.

Alec glances back at Rafael again.  “Raf.”  He grips his son’s arms. “Where were you?”

“I just got lost.  I was looking for the bathroom and…”

“Rafael.” Alec moves hair around his ear, running a finger behind it slowly.  Normally Raf finds it soothing, but he tenses under Alec’s hand. “You _can’t_ walk away like that.  We thought—”

“I’m alright, Dad.”

Magnus puts Max down, who runs over to his brother to crush him in a hug, blue limbs holding on snug like a small vice.

Alec hears a small sniffle.  Max is crying, face hidden in Rafael’s red sweater.  He only cries quietly like this when he’s too overwhelmed to do otherwise.

“Sorry, Max,” Raf says, hugging his brother back.

After watching them until his pulse returns to normal and his mind’s more at ease, Alec stands up.

Rubbing his forehead, he turns to face Magnus.  “I sort of freaked out,” he says, keeping his eyes down, for a moment.  But he does look at Magnus, because he wants to be able to.  Alec wants to meet him at every angle. “Sorry.”  It isn’t the apology he wants to give.  He’d demanded Magnus use magic—he’d treated him like Alec had a right to it. “I know- I should’ve…” He wishes Magnus would put a hand on him because even though it sets every system in his body on alert, it somehow makes it easier to talk. “I know you’d do whatever you could to find Raf. I shouldn’t have asked you to track him.” Magnus would’ve done it on his own if it would’ve helped.

Magnus shakes his head, peering around Alec at Max and Rafael.  His fingers rub together, something Alec has noticed he does when he’s nervous, along with playing with his rings.  “I’m just glad we found him.”  Green eyes turn back onto Alec.  “Would the three of you like a portal home?”

“It’s okay,” Alec says, “We can get a cab.”

“Your insistence on not abusing my magic is appreciated, Alexander, but these are special circumstances.” He holds a hand out towards his kids.  Max is still crying, clinging to his brother. Rafael’s eyes are slightly sunken. “I don’t know what happened here, but he did not get lost going to the bathroom.  I understand you’re a Shadowhunter and you’re going to say you don’t need protecting, but at least let me send _them_ home, where I— where we know they’re safe.”

Alec’s not sure how much more of Magnus his heart can handle before he’s done for. He stares at his jaw, his shoulders, the concern on his face.  Pleading.  That ‘we’ injected deliberately, making them a team. Alec moves to him until he’s as close as they’ve ever been. “Alright,” he says, and sets his hand on Magnus’s lower arm, mirroring the act so often done to him – though his fingers stutter. “Do you want me to come back here?”

“No,” Magnus says. His smile is mostly in his eyes but it’s there, wholehearted. “I’ll text you if I find anything.”

He waves a portal open.  A few people in the shop look over, but a Warlock opening a portal is no big news in the Downworld, even if it is Magnus Bane.  The Head of the New York Institute seen shopping with his kids and the High Warlock of Brooklyn, on the other hand?  And causing a scene?

Alec looks at his hand held onto Magnus’s lower arm.  Well, he doesn’t mind.  At least these rumours will be true.

“Text me when you’re done, even if you don’t find anything.” He rubs a thumb on Magnus’s arm.  “Okay?”

Max runs over before Magnus can reply, grabbing his hand.  He’s stopped crying, but his eyes are red. “Come back with us." He tugs on Magnus's hand.

“Not today, blueberry,” he says, lifting Max up.  He sets a small kiss on his blue cheek, and then gives him to Alec.

“I’ll— We’ll see you later,” Alec says.

Max is pouting, and waves with a tiny hand.  “Bye Magnus.”

Alec watches as Magnus tries to catch Rafael’s eyes before they walk through the portal, but he keeps his gaze on the ground.

 

* * *

 

Learning from his past mistakes, as soon as it’s late and Max is tucked into bed—his own, finally—Alec goes to talk to Rafael.

Magnus had texted him about an hour ago, saying he hadn't found anything very helpful, but there were traces of magic throughout the shop.  Whoever had used it was careful though, because he couldn’t read the source.  Not that they didn’t both know _exactly_ who it was.

As he gets closer to his door, Alec can hear someone speaking.  Is Rafael talking to himself?  He's never done so before, but lots of kids do, so he doesn't think anything of it.

Alec knocks on his door, opening it slowly, “Raf?”

He’s sitting on his bed, dark red comforter made neatly under him, his legs hung over the side of the frame.  He’s staring at his hands.  The soft white glow from the faerie lights he’d put in here last week has half his face hidden in a shadow.  He stills, hands fisting in his lap, when Alec comes into the room.  
  
He sits beside his son and doesn’t say anything, just waits. Alec puts a hand on his back and begins rubbing in slow circles.  A few minutes of silence go on between them, comfortable but apprehensive, the pressure to speak mounting.

“How do you know you can trust Magnus?” Rafael says at length, scowling at his feet.

“Raf,” Alec stops rubbing his back but keeps his hand there, keeps his words steady and slow, “we’ve talked about this.” Rafael’s lips are clamped shut. “Magnus isn’t Max’s mom. Not all Warlocks are the same, just like Shadowhunters.”

“But what does he want with us?”

“What do you mean, what does he want?”

Rafael kicks at the bedframe, still frowning. “Why would he care?” His brown hands are gripping at the edge of the mattress.

Alec doesn’t know what to say. Where’s this coming from? Why does Rafael look so conflicted? He’d been starting to warm up to Magnus a little, and now he looks as defensive and afraid as he had at the start.

“He cares,” Alec says, remembering the scattered way Magnus had acted after putting Max to bed a few days ago.  The way he’d pleaded with Alec to take both kids back to the Institute today.

Rafael looks up at him.  There’s something in his eyes Alec’s never seen before.  It’s bleak, colourless and tired, swimming in convolution.  

“He  _does_ , Raf.” Alec rubs at his back again. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I promise he cares about us.”

It flicks away, the washed-out disarray in Rafael’s eyes, and then he only looks sad.

“Dad…” He starts, “Do you think…” He scratches at his elbows, staring at his toes hung above the floor. “I get that he likes Max,” Rafael says, his voice morphing to a scratching tone and diminishing with every word, “And you.”  He turns his head away from his dad, “But I...” Alec has to lean over to hear him clearly, “I don’t think he likes  _me_.”

This is not the conversation he’d expected them to have; Alec wants to know what Allison did to his son, where she took him, if she’d used any magic on him, threatened him.  He hadn’t come here to talk about Magnus at all.  But it’s not surprising - Raf has watched Magnus get to know Alec and Max for nearly two months now.  It's no wonder he feels left out.  Alec had known, and he’s been trying to do something about it, but clearly it’s not working.  Rafael still feels like he’s on the outside of everything, marginalized because of the new person in their lives.

Alec needs to do better.  He can’t let Raf slip to the sidelines, just because he puts himself there.  Alec needs to pull him back front and center every time.

“If he doesn’t like you,” he starts, keeping the hand on Raf’s back motionless, “then he’s an idiot.”  Rafael turns his head then, eyes widening at the ‘bad’ word Alec had used.  He never talks like that in front of his kids.  Alec meets his eyes, scratching softly with the hand at his back. “The three of us are a package deal, Raf.  If Magnus doesn’t like one of us he doesn’t get to have any of us.”

“But… Max needs him.”

Alec nods. “Max needs him.  And Max will always have him.  But that doesn’t mean he gets to be a part of this family.” He moves his arm over Rafael’s shoulder, tugging him to Alec’s side. “Just between you and me though? I’m pretty sure Magnus likes you.”

Rafael doesn’t look convinced.  He keeps his eyes on his feet and offers no reply.

“What happened today, Raf?”  Nothing.  Alec presses, keeping his words as gentle as he can, “Was it Allison?”

“I told you, I just got lost.”

He’s lying, Alec knows. Rafael is easy to read once you get to know him.  But _why_ is he lying?  What happened that he feels like he has to keep it from Alec?  “Did she do something to you?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever it was, you won’t get in trouble.”

Silence.

Alec holds him tighter, his heart weighing so heavy he feels like he’s sinking into the bed.  He kisses Rafael on his hairline, lingering in the sweet, soapy smell of his shampoo. “I’m always on your side.  Whatever it is, when you’re ready you can tell me.”

 

* * *

 

Izzy, Clary, Jace, and Simon are all in the kitchen when Alec walks in.  He recounts the story for them, wanting them to know.

“You think it was Allison?” Simon asks him.

Alec slips down in his chair. “Magnus couldn’t tell, but I don’t know who else it would be.”

“Why would she go after Raf, though?” Simon asks.

Alec shrugs.  He has no idea how her mind works.  He doesn’t _want_ to know.

Jace puts a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll all keep an eye out.”

“Is Raf okay?” Clary asks.

Alec sighs. “He won’t talk to me about it.”  He looks at his sister, who has her arm gently around Clary.  “Maybe you should try, Iz.  He doesn’t… After everything with Magnus, maybe he thinks I won’t listen to him.”

Jace and Izzy both look at him sternly.  “None of this is your fault, Alec,” Jace says.

Izzy nods. “Raf just takes awhile to get used to change.”

Alec nods back with a sigh, but he does believe them.  He just can’t help thinking that if he hadn’t been so distracted by Magnus helping Max try on suits, none of this would have happened. If he were good with words, if he were just someone else, someone who didn’t screw everything up the harder they tried, things would be better for his kids.  Rafael would _trust_ him still.

Alec stays in the room, even after everyone else has gone to bed.  He can’t sleep.  He makes himself some tea and sits down alone in the low-lit kitchen, the same one they’d all been using since they were teenagers.  He’d spent a lot of nights in here, from growing up with his siblings to feeding Rafael and Max, rocking them until they fell asleep, their tiny puffs of air soothing him even in his sleepless exhaustion.  

He needs to do better.  He needs to be enough, to be everything his kids need him to be, everything his job needs him to be, everything Magnus deserves too—

From out of nowhere, the memory of Magnus holding his cheek comes to him.

Alec brings his own fingers up to trace where he’d touched.

_You’re not a commodity, Alexander._

How many times has he said that to Max?  He’s so worried Max will start seeing himself as something to be quantified, something that is only worth as much as it can be useful to others.  He wants Max to feel worthy just by  _being_.

Alec had never thought of having the same thing for himself.  To him, he _is_ a commodity.  He’s the head of the Institute, he’s a dad, he’s the oldest sibling; he has to fill these roles and he must do it well.  There has to be enough of him to spread around to all the places he needs to be.  His self-worth has always come from being able to fulfill his duties, whatever they are.  But if it’s not good enough for his kids, why is it good enough for him?  How can he expect Max - and Rafael - to learn he’s worthwhile just by existing if Alec can’t see himself the same way?

Magnus has never asked Alec to change, to become anything, to fulfil any role.  He’s only asked Alec to do one thing, and that was to be honest with him, something he’d done in return.  Magnus takes Alec exactly how he is.  It’s so different from the way his parents had treated him, Alec doesn’t know what to do with it.  There are expectations, as with any sort of relationship, things like respect and trust.  But there’s no goal to reach.  No quota to fill.  No objective.  There’s just being with him and talking with him and touching him and watching as he does the same, reflective of Alec’s own surrendering heart.

He’s pulling out his phone before he even realizes it.

_Are you free this weekend?_

Magnus replies after a few seconds.  It’s nearing midnight so he’s probably in bed.  At least, Alec hopes so.

_I have Sunday evening open.  But I thought you were busy with your Seelies?_

_Some things are more important._  He hopes the sentiment is obvious. _Do you want to get dinner?_

The dots that indicate he’s writing a message pop up and stay for awhile, blink out, and then come up again.  This happens three times.  When he does finally send something, it’s short and leaves Alec wondering what Magnus hadn’t said.

_I’d love to._

Alec is stuck smiling at the three words before he replies.

_Do you want to pick? I don’t go out enough to know anywhere good._

_I’ll think about it and give you some options later this week ;)_

_Alright._

_How is Rafael?_

Alec has always disliked texting, but now his fingers tap readily at the screen.  The motion is almost cathartic.

 _I’m not sure.  He wouldn’t talk to me about it.  He talked about you._  

_What did he say?_

_He thinks you don’t like him._

_You can tell the little Shadowhunter I’m perfectly fond of him!_

Alec laughs.  It’s only quiet and breathy but leads his lips into a smile.

_He needs to see it, you know? He doesn’t trust you._

Reeling, Alec hurries to add:

_He doesn’t trust anyone who isn’t family_

Reeling again, he scrambles to type out another sentence:

_Not that you’re not sort of family_

_You are to Max_

_And I like you a lot_

Oh god could he get any worse at this? If he’s bad at talking, shouldn’t he at least be good at texting?

_Fuck Magnus, sorry.  I just mean he needs time._

_Oh it’s quite alright, Alexander. Anything that leads to you putting that particular expletive next to my name is well worth it._

Alec’s head flashes with an image and he’s pretty sure his blush reaches his neck.

_And I like you quite a lot, too._

He puts the back of a hand over his ever-expanding smile, reading the words over and over.  The blush creeps down towards his chest, or maybe that’s just his heart going into overdrive, making it feel hot.  What’s he supposed to say?

He isn’t sure, but he does want Magnus to know he’s affected.  Wants Magnus to keep talking to him like that.

Alec sends a ridiculous red-face emoticon and feels twice as ridiculous doing it. He blushes harder.  Maybe he’d ruined everything, doing that—turned their conversation into some sort of joke.

Magnus sends back a long string of ridiculous pink hearts.

Alec’s laugh is a lot louder than he means it to be.


	16. Rafael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [bleedingoptimism](http://bleedingoptimism.tumblr.com/) for helping me pick a tv show for Raf! And I managed to add the other suggestions in there.
> 
> Thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) for editing!

 

Two days later, there’s a breach at the Institute.

Alec is reading a book Max had brought home from school, Max sat on his lap in the main workroom of the Institute.  It’s late, so there’s no one around.  

He’s also texting Clary about a surprise present they’d ordered for Isabelle that looks like it’s going to arrive the day of the wedding. Isabelle is looking through old photos, trying to dig up some intel Luke had asked for.  Jace is with the Vampires at Hotel Dumort, and Rafael had gone to his bedroom to practice his runes.  It’s a typical evening.

No one’s broken into the Institute since Valentine was around, so when the signal flashes on every screen in the workroom, Alec is immediately tossed back in time: searching for the Cup, stopping a madman from creating his own personal Shadowhunter army, and the threat of the world ending.

It takes him a moment to remember that that’s all over.

Max turns in his lap, eyes wide.  It draws Alec fully back to reality. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“Izzy-”

“Someone’s inside,” she says, opening a map of the whole building.  “Downworlder.”

“Where?”

She shakes her head.  “The security system can’t get a location. Alec, you need to get Max and Rafael out of here.  I’ll get everyone to start searching the building.”

“How did someone get in?” No one breaks into the Institute.  Especially after it’d been reinforced against Valentine and his angel-blooded Forsakens.

“I don’t _know_ , Alec,” Izzy says, flipping through windows on the screen of her computer, locking all the exits. “Get Raf and Max someplace safe and get back here as soon as you can.” He keeps looking at the screen, disbelieving.  “Go!” she snaps.

Lifting Max up and ignoring his questions for the moment, Alec runs for Rafael’s room.  He opens the door without knocking. “Raf, we gotta go.”

“What?” He stares owl-eyed at his dad. “Why? Where?”

“There’s someone in the Institute,” Alec says, putting a hand on his back once Raf has stood up.  He guides him into the hall, leading Rafael down the corridor, Max still in his arms.

“Like someone bad?”

Alec doesn’t respond.  He takes his kids to the basement, loads them in the van, and drives out as fast as he can.  There are a few places he sends Max and Rafael if he can’t find someone to watch them at home or if something goes so wrong it’s not safe for them to be there.  There’s Luke’s pack, his parents in Idris, or Clary’s mother.  But none of those places are where he’s headed.

Alec knows Magnus is home tonight because they’ve been texting all day and Magnus had said he was having friends over.  And he knows he’s inconveniencing him, overstepping his bounds, pushing, making an assumption and being in general too forward, asking too much.

But Alec doesn’t care.

Because there’s no safer place for Max and Rafael.

He parks the van, lifts Max out of his seat, and pulls his phone out, dialing Magnus’s number.  The door to the building opens when he tugs on it but Alec doesn’t question it, doesn’t notice.  He just makes his way up three flights of stairs to Magnus’s apartment, Max in his arms and Rafael one step behind him.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is rolling his eyes at something absolutely boorish Ragnor had just told him, when his phone rings.  He wouldn’t think much of it, but Alexander’s name flashes across the screen.  He’d said he was home with Max and Rafael this evening and in their week-long stint of texting, Alec never messages him when he’s spending the night with his kids, let alone calls him.  

He presses the ‘accept call’ button on his screen and holds the phone to his ear, silencing Ragnor and Catarina with a finger.  “Alec?”  Being the no-good nosey friends they are, they lean a little closer to listen.

“Magnus-” He sounds panicked.  

“Is everything alright?”

“Someone broke into the Institute.”

“What? Who?”

“We don’t know.” The sound of footfalls fills the silence before he talks again. “I… I need somewhere to put Max and Raf, until we know what’s going on. Can you...”

“Send them here,” Magnus says, rising from his seat, “I’ll open a portal.”

“Um.” A pause as Alec gathers his words, as he often needs to.  “Actually... we’re at your door.”

Without putting his phone down, Magnus walks over to the door and swings it open.  Alec’s face is pale, Max looks near-tears and Rafael nervous.  All three of them stare directly at him.

Alec says, “I know you have friends over but I ca-”

“Stop, Alexander.” Magnus pockets his phone and puts his arms out.  Alec passes Max over without hesitation. “I’m glad you brought them here.” Magnus tucks Max into his side, then looks back at Alec.  “I’ve put up extra wards since you-know-who made her presence known at my school.”

“You don’t...” He trails off, shaking his head. “I know they’re safe here.”

Alec kneels down to speak with Rafael.  His big brown eyes follow his dad’s every move. “Raf, you’re going to stay with Magnus, okay?”

“For how long?” He searches Alec’s face.  Afraid.

“I don’t know,” Alec says. Rafael turns his head down, glaring at the floor. “Raf, look at me.” Alec dips his head low, forcing his son’s eyes on him.  “I would never leave you with someone if I wasn’t _one-hundred_ percent sure it was safe.”

Rafael doesn’t reply.  Magnus feels his heartstrings tug.

Alec runs black hair behind Raf’s ear, his features softening, nearly nose-to-nose with his son.  Rafael tenses at the touch.

“I promise,” Alec says, setting a hand on his shoulder.

When Rafael doesn’t reply, Alec stands up.  He looks at Magnus, their gazes holding onto each other’s. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.  I’m sorry for dropping this on you.”

“Don’t be,” Magnus says, shifting Max in his arms.

“If something comes up, Luke can take them.”

“Alec, I’ve got them.”  He wants to say something more, to set a hand on Alexander somewhere to steady them both, but now is not the time.  Magnus waves open a portal behind Alec. “Be sure to keep us updated.”

Alec looks at the three of them one last time before he turns around, disappearing in the purple haze of the portal.

“Is Dad gonna be okay?” Max asks.

“I’m confident that your father, along with your aunts and uncles and everyone other Shadowhunter there, can handle one intruder,” Magnus says, turning to head inside his apartment. “He has to deal with you everyday, after all.”

“ _Magnus_ ,” Max sings with a happy sigh, “That’s not nice.”

“You’re more of a handful than six-hundred intruders and you know it, blueberry.” He pokes Max on the nose, earning him a string of giggles.  

“Have you had dinner?” He asks Max.

“Yup.”

Magnus walks towards the couches in his living room.  Catarina and Ragnor are there, drinking wine and chatting.  Their eyes widen when Magnus walks over with Max in his arms.  

“You were serious,” Catarina says.

Magnus turns to look at her. “About what?”

“Kids.”  She gazes at Max in blatant disbelief. But she smiles soon enough. “Hello there, cutie.” Max’s fingers curl into Magnus’s shirt.  “It’s always nice to meet someone the same colour as myself.  You must be Max.”

“You’re blue!”

Catarina grins. “Very observant of you.”

He looks at Magnus, his eyes the size of oceans.  He leans in close, probably intending for no one else to hear him, but he’s plainly audible. “Magnus—is she a Warlock?”

“Yes,” he says, grinning.  He nods towards Ragnor. “So is that green cabbage over there.”

Ragnor scoffs. “Don’t teach him that! It’ll stick and I’ll have both of you calling me that infernal nickname for the rest of eternity.”

Max is buzzing in Magnus’s arms.  The only other Warlocks he’s met have been children—he’s never gotten to know any adult ones, aside from Magnus.  

“Come have a seat, Max,” Catarina says, smiling.

He looks at Magnus again.  “Can I?”

“Of course!” He grins and sets Max on his feet.

But the blueberry grips at Magnus’s pant leg, staying close beside him.

“Don’t be shy,” Ragnor says. “We’re much better company than your teacher.”

Magnus sends him a sarcastic, leveled look.  Then he shifts his eyes to Max, putting a hand on his head. “Nothing to be afraid of, these two are dear friends of mine.  The beautiful lady in all blue is Catarina Loss, and the squawking liar is Ragnor Fell.”

“Ha ha,” Ragnor says, “Coming from the man who purports himself some eight-hundred years old at every available opportunity—unless doing so reveals him in a negative light, because heaven forbid we don’t all think you’re perfect, Magnus.”

“At least I attempt to have a positive self-image, Ragnor.”

“Oh is that what they're calling it now?”

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t kn-”

“Enough, you two,” Catarina says, then she smiles at Max, “Sweetheart, come on over.  These two bicker like an old married couple, just ignore them.”

Shuffling his feet and grinning timidly, Max makes his way towards the two older Warlocks.  He sits right down between them on the couch.  His head swings back and forth, about to burst with a million questions.

And while Magnus wants to hear them, wants to see his closest friends to get to know the child he’s come to feel so responsible for, something just as strong turns his head back.

Alec’s older son is still standing at the door.

Magnus walks over to him, leaving Max to his friends.

“Would you like to join us?” He says.  Magnus kneels down. Rafael’s eyes follow him, frowning.  “Or shall I set you up in my room?  It's quiet.” It's the only room separated by walls except for the bathroom, as much privacy as Magnus can offer him. “And I have some books you might enjoy.”

Rafael had smiled at Magnus, when he'd shown him the Warlock Fire three days ago.  Somehow they've taken two steps back.  He looks every bit as defensive as he had before. His whole body is on high alert, ready to bolt at any moment.  

His eyes dart around. “Sure.”

“To which?” Magnus asks, keeping his voice as low and calm as the candles along the room lighting his lair.

Rafael doesn't ease up. “Your room.” Holding his elbows, he looks like he thinks he's somewhere dangerous. “Please.”

Magnus’s chest aches at the fear in his eyes. He honestly does like Rafael.  How could he not?  The little fashionista is just as unbearably charming as his brother.  He has all of Alec's mannerisms, all of his tendencies towards reservation, and having seen Rafael fight, Magnus is sure he has all of his passion too.

Magnus wants him to know he’s safe here. He wants Rafal to be at least unafraid around him, if nothing else.

He sets Alec’s older son up on his bed with a pile of books and a plate of fruit he snaps up from a local market.  When he looks at Rafael’s scowling face Magnus wants to stay, but maybe what he needs the most is room to breathe, time to sort out his fears on his own.

“You’re welcome to join us out here, whenever you like,” Magnus says, setting a hand on the door frame. “And if you need anything just ask.”

Eyes glued to a book, Rafael doesn’t respond.

 

* * *

 

When Magnus is gone, Rafael pulls the pendant out of his shirt and holds it, waiting for the Vampire to show up.  

“Well hello there, little Shadowhunter,” the woman says, her pale face coming into view.  She’s not totally there, he can see through her a little.  “I was hoping you’d call again.  I’m sorry our conversation was cut short, but rest assured, no one will detect me again.”  Her eyes scan the room. She snorts. “Especially not here.  Magnus’s wards are pathetic.”

Rafael feels white hot guilt tangle through every nerve in his body.  He didn’t want to call her, not when he was at home or here, but he can’t get her words out of his head.  What if Magnus really is trying to hurt Max? He needs to learn the truth, he has to protect Dad and his brother.

“Now, where were we?” She asks.

When she sits on the bed he starts to forget exactly why he’d summoned her.

“You were asking about Magnus, dear.”

Right—Rafael tries to glare at her but he can’t seem to control the expression. “How do you know him?”

Her eyes flash at him.  He can feel his mind go, loose and wavering like a soon-to-fall leaf on a tall tree.

“We used to date, little one.”  She laughs and it strikes through his body, bright and painful but he wants to hear more. “Centuries ago.” That’s weird, Rafael thought Magnus liked boys.  He says so and she laughs again. “That witch likes anyone.  But between you and me?” - Dad had said that and Rafael’s mind jumps, clinging desperately, trying to remember the words that followed: _I’m pretty sure he…_ “He has a type.”

“A type?”

“You know,” she smiles playfully and no one’s ever looked at him like that and it feels strange, like when she’d lifted his chin with just her finger, “A look he goes after.  Young, stunning,” she strokes a hand down her hair, “Dark hair.  Your father’s at the bottom of a long long list, dear.”

But Rafael remembers seeing them almost kiss, and people only kiss if they like each other.  He’s sure.  He’s pretty sure.  “I saw him almost kiss Dad,” he says, as defiant as he can be.  But his voice is quivering, quiet, weak.

The woman’s laugh is bright and loud.  “You think that makes your father special? Magnus would kiss any pretty face that walked by.” She leans in closer.  “You know _why_ he’s so nice to Max, Rafael? You know why he’s trying to be nice to you?”  He shakes his head because he doesn’t want to hear this, he doesn’t - “Your father is young, he’s attractive, and he’s politically powerful.  Magnus is kind to you to get to him.  If he has your father,” she grins, “he gains control of all the Shadowhunters in New York.”

Rafael feels his eyes widen.  

“It's a powerplay, little one.”

His heart screams not to believe it. He doesn’t want Max or Dad to get hurt. She sets a hand on his shoulder, cold and bloodless. “No one will tell you because they think you’re too young to understand.  But I know you understand, Rafael.”  

White teeth gleam at him.

“You’re all nothing but a commodity to him.”

He feels like crying.  

“Oh my little dark flower.” Two pale arms wrap around him.  The woman smells like a graveyard, like cold grey soil that has encapsulated dead bodies for centuries. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” She strokes hair behind his ear.

Rafael sets his forehead against her shoulder, all the heat leaving him in bounds.  He tries to let them out, tries to let himself go, but the tears won’t come.  

 

* * *

 

Magnus tries to concentrate on his friends and their excitement concerning Max, but finds his eyes straying towards his bedroom.  How alone must he feel, in this strange apartment with all these new people?  

He sits distracted on the couch for all of twenty minutes before Magnus can’t take the thought any longer.

 He'd meant to leave Rafael alone in his room, give him time and space, but how can he?  How could Magnus ever leave him while he looked so lost?

He stands up, excuses himself, and makes for his bedroom.  He’d left the door open, but he knocks on its frame before he enters.  

When he walks in, Rafael is staring at his hands in his lap.  His eyes are red - bloodshot.

Magnus’s magic sparks somewhere inside him at the haunted look in his young eyes. “Are you alright, little Shadowhunter?” He asks, hurrying into the room and sitting on the edge of his bed.  Rafael tenses, but he'd done so before Magnus had sat down.  Was it something about the nickname?  “Rafael?” Magnus tries again, but he doesn’t say anything.  He looks conflicted and unsure, like a thousand different thoughts are firing around in his brain.  His sunken eyes seem cored, emptied of their heat.

Magnus searches for any emotion other than distraught fear, but to his dismay he can’t see anything. How can such young eyes reflect such weariness? Is it all from his fear of Warlocks? He feels sadness start to creep into his heart, having no idea what to do.

Magnus gazes around his room for a moment, looking for _anything_ to help, to erase that look off Rafael’s face.

His eyes light up when he spots it.

“Wait right here,” Magnus says, hopping off the bed. He goes across the room to his vanity, waving a hand to turn more lights on as he walks by.

He carries back a semi-organized box full of nail polish, all the eyeliner he owns, one jar of dark glitter, various bottles of foundation, and about fifty shades of eyeshadow.

Rafael’s eyes widen as he sets it all down on the bed.  

Magnus says, “Pick a colour. I’ll do your nails.” Rafael’s eyes widen more, but Magnus only smiles, still standing beside the bed.  He will leave if Rafael asks him to, though Magnus hopes he doesn’t. “Don’t worry, I’ll do an excellent job.”

Rafael picks at his socks. “Wouldn’t you rather be with your friends?”

“No,” Magnus feels his smile fall to something far more sincere, “I’d like to be right here with you, if it’s alright.”

A long stretch of silence. Rafael searches his eyes, flicking his gaze away and then looking at Magnus once again.

“Why?”

Pity fills Magnus’s heart as the question and all of its implications wash over him. It’s the same as the question he’d asked Magnus when they’d trained together: ‘Why are you telling _me_ , then, if it’s such an important secret?’  Somehow, Rafael doesn’t think he’s worth being the center of someone’s focus, thinks he’s meant to be secondary--or maybe less than that, someone not even considered.

Magnus sits on the bed. He has met other children who view themselves in a similar light and he always wants to help them, but the feeling coursing through him now is broader, something binding and vital.

A few reposes run through his mind.  ‘Because I like your father,’ ‘Because I've gotten to know your brother but not you,’ ‘Because it feels wrong to leave you in here and upset.’  And those things are true, but they're not the core of the matter.  Not true enough.

Determination growing in him, he looks directly into two brown eyes. “Because I've never had kids of my own, Rafael, and so I've never gotten to do something like this.”

“What?”

Magnus continues, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ve been alone for a very long time.  I mean, I have friends,” he gestures vaguely towards the open door, eyes going to it as well, “And I love them dearly.  But I’ve never been married, I’ve never had anyone who was…” He doesn’t know if he should explain it, and so doesn’t. He looks at Rafael again, dipping his head slightly as he speaks. “My father was not a good person, and my mother left when I was very young.  I’ve never had a real family.”  

He finds all of this hard to say, but knows somehow it’s necessary, that Rafael needs a whole truth and not half of one.  

“I don’t know what it’s like to wake up everyday to the same people, people who love you.  I don’t know what it’s like to share breakfast every morning, to fight over chores or know how long someone will take getting ready in the bathroom.  I've never... I’ve never had that security.  To know I’ll come home and,” he wavers a moment, “ _someone_ will be there.”

Rafael is staring Magnus, his eyes moving, listening intently.

“I don't know where your father and I will end up, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't hoping... Hoping for a permanency.”

Magnus holds his forehead, dumbstruck by his own words. What is he doing telling that to Alec’s son before he’s said anything of the sort to Alec himself? Not that Rafael shouldn’t hear it, but Magnus can’t help but feel it’s a little underhanded.

“Sorry, Rafael,” he says, fingers pressed to his temple, “I've gone a bit off track.”

Silence stretches out between them.  Magnus is about to leave then, a little unsure of himself now and thinking maybe some quiet alone time is what he needs after all, when Rafael speaks.

“That’s all you want from us?”

“What?” Magnus says, confused by the question.

Rafael peers over at him, cautious. “Waking up together, eating together, that's all you want?”

Magnus stares for a moment.  Rafael’s words sound so much like Alexander’s own fears, as if he is quantifying himself as his father does. It’s not anyone’s fault if Rafael has such a view—it is impossible to _not_ pass on some of one’s insecurities to one’s children.  

Magnus makes certain his voice doesn’t waver when he replies. “I hadn’t really thought of it in terms of ‘wanting something’ from you.” He watches as Rafael’s hands grip tighter at the blanket, anxious, too much so for someone his age. “But I don't have any other objective, if that's what you're asking.” The grip relaxes, but it’s only a minute change.

More words come then, unbidden and without permission, sneaking up on Magnus: “I've never loved someone the way I love your little brother.” He feels his heart start to give out.  His head’s trapped somewhere between wanting so badly to make Rafael feel comfortable and secure, and realizing that they’re _both_ nervous, that Magnus himself isn’t entirely stable either. “I'm just as– as– It's–” He laughs, his words in a useless heap, “It's all just as new for me–” shakes his head, “ _you're_ just as new for me as I am for you.”

Some spell over Rafael breaks.  While glossed over, his eyes are lively again, the heat returned.  Whatever blank whiteness that had been in them is gone, leaving nothing but deep brown.

“Dad too?”

“What?”

“Dad.” Rafael’s eyes drop to the bed and then rise to meet Magnus’s.  “Is he new for you too?”

Magnus thinks about how Alexander has awoken something inside him that he’d thought gone forever, and how it’s turned into something he’s never felt, something hanging towards ‘family.’  

He looks at Rafael. “Yes.” Magnus rubs his thumb and index finger together, wrist lying on his knee. Fleetingly he realizes it’s something Alec does and he’d somehow picked up the trait. “When I saw your father for the first time, it was……”

Alec’s smile and his hazel eyes and his arms and the way he says Magnus’s name and the way he smirks and how he’ll laugh at Magnus’s outrageous flirtations even though he doesn’t want to find them funny—the way he tells him everything about his kids now, the way he keeps surprising Magnus with such openness, the way his shoulder blades bend when he draws back a bow and how Magnus can see every ounce of passion in the action, passion that usually stays sleeping in Alexander’s heart.

All of it comes to him in a rush and Magnus can’t finish his sentence.

“You gave him all those roses.”  Rafael looks at him like a cat looks at someone it’s never met.

Magnus nods, his face going a little pink.

“You like him.” It’s not a question but his voice rises just enough at the end to make him sound unsure.

“Quite a lot.”

Rafael studies him.

Though he seems fuller, as if all the rich colour has come back to him, he still moves shyly, like he thinks he’s not allowed. Rafael reaches into the box slowly and pulls out dark red polish, holding it out towards Magnus while looking uninterested off to the side.  

“This one,” he says.

“This,” Magnus tilts his head at Rafael and waits for brown eyes to find him.  When they do, Magnus smiles, “is an excellent choice, Rafael.”

He crosses his legs at the knees on his bed and takes the bottle of nail polish from Rafael.  Once he’d unscrewed the lid and set the bottle down, he says, “Here, give me your hand.” Magnus holds his own out, smiling.

After a long glance, as if he’s afraid it would hurt him, Rafael takes it.

Magnus puts his own hand down on his own knee, Rafael’s darker fingers set over his palm. They’re a good deal smaller, but bigger than his brother’s.  Magnus starts painting, beginning with his index finger.

“So have you found a suit for your aunt’s wedding yet?”

“No.” He watches his nails. “Dad’s been busy.”

“Yes the Seelies _have_ been monopolizing his time.”

“Monopolizing?”

Magnus starts on the next finger. “To use, or keep to oneself.” He lifts a brown hand up to blow gently on the two wet nails. “I only mean they’ve been hogging him.”

“Oh.” It’s silent for a moment, nothing but the tapping sound of plastic brush strokes, and then Rafael says, “Do you think he’s alright?”

“Your father?”

Rafael nods, looking at Magnus.  His hair is falling into his eyes, but Magnus doesn’t make to move it.

“Yes, I think he’s fine.”

He frowns, indignant to the point of it being comical. “Are you just saying that because I’m a kid?”

Magnus laughs. It’s unintentional and abrupt.  He messes up a nail.  Magicing it clean, he says, “No, Rafael.  I simply have every confidence that the New York Shadowhunters can handle one Downworlder intruding upon their base.”

“How d’you know it’s a Downworlder?”

Magnus hums, “Aren’t all Shadowhunters welcome?”

“It could be a mundane.”

“Right,” Magnus widens his eyes for a sarcastic effect, “And I have the worst fashion sense in all of Brooklyn.”

“Your hair _is_ kinda weird.”

“My hair,” Magnus starts, flicking it back dramatically, “is amazing. And _you_ know it.”

Rafael huffs out a laugh, his mouth curving up. “Maybe for birds to sleep in.”

“Rafael,” Magnus grins too, keeping his eyes on his work, “you wound me.  I’d thought I’d finally found someone who shared my great tastes.”

His laugh is full this time, nearly as giggly and warm as his brother’s.  “Do you go to Mondonna’s?”

“Best stylist in the city.”

“Do you know Shirin?”

“She does the manicures, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Do you…”

While Magnus finishes both of Rafael’s hands, they talk about their favourite stores, designers, and products.  He’s incredibly knowledgeable for a seven-year-old.  Magnus is doubly impressed.  Just as he’s done a second coat and blowing air over them to dry, his phone buzzes.

It’s Alexander.  He accepts the call, setting his phone over the bed on speaker so Rafael can hear.

“Alexander, you’re on speaker.”

“Hi Dad!”

“Hey, Raf.” Magnus can hear the smile. It’s the small soft one Alec is never aware he’s making. “So, everything’s fine here.  The intruder’s gone.  We’re trying to figure out how they got in.” Magnus feels Rafael’s hand tense up where it’s sat in his. “Can you watch Max and Raf for a few more hours? I don’t want them back here until we know it’s secure.”

“Of course.” He doesn’t want to send them back unless it’s safe either. “They can stay as long as they need to.”

“I can send them to Luke’s pack, or my mother’s-”

“Alec,” Magnus can’t help but smile out of fond exasperation, “I want them here.”

“Alright.” He clears his throat. “Thank you.”  Then he asks, “Is Raf doing okay?”

Rafael goes stiff, looking at Magnus.  Magnus shrugs with a smile, as if to say ‘he’s asking you, not me.’

“I’m good,” he says.

Alec’s smile is in his voice again. “Okay. I’ve gotta go, but if you need anything just call.”

“Kay. Bye, Dad.”

“See you guys later.”

The phone clicks off.

Magnus looks at Rafael. “Shall we go tell your brother?”

“In a sec,” he says.  His eyes land on the eyeliner, eyeshadow, and foundations lying on the bed. “Magnus…”

“Hm?”

Rafael’s eyes meet his and then jump away. “Can I…” Magnus waits for him to finish. His gaze leaps back to Magnus’s, and Rafael looks so serious it’s hard not to smile. “Can I do yours?”

“My nails?”

“No.” He points to his own face. “Makeup.”

Magnus feels like every colour in the world floods him, like he’s glowing in the rays of deep, rich brown eyes.  “Oh absolutely!” He snaps his fingers, clearing his face.  “Let me be your canvas, I’m honoured.”

“You’re like- _really_ weird,” Rafael says, squinting one eye at Magnus, the same way his father does, before he starts digging through the various foundations.

Magnus preens. “I wouldn’t want to be ordinary.”

Rafael snorts. “Well you’re not, so don’t worry.” He lifts up one bottle.  It’s an expensive brand made by a company in Jamaica, owned and operated solely by Nixies, with a woman called River Mumma as the acting head. Jamaican Seelies are a whole different culture from American ones—with an arguably bloodier history and worse scars—but they’ve come a long way through the centuries.  And they make his _exact_ skin tone.  “How’s this?”  
  
“You have complete artistic freedom,” Magnus says, winking, “Your choice.”

Rafael sets the bottle down and picks out three brown shades of eyeshadow, dark brown eyeliner, and the dark glitter.  He rises to his knees, puts some the foundation in his hands, and starts covering Magnus’s face.  The pressure in his fingers is just as controlled as a Shadowhunter’s would be, and has Magnus smiling at the fact.  

After lying the foundation out, Rafael searches until he finds a dark stick-foundation, and begins mapping out contour lines.

Magnus grins, hardly surprised. “Who taught you how to do this?”

“Aunt Izzy,” Rafael says.

He just hums in response.  

“Do you have something I can blend with?”

Magnus closes his hand into a fist and when he opens it, a purple sponge appears in his palm.  He holds it out to Rafael.

“Thanks.” He takes it starts blending the lines.  

One of his hands is on Magnus’s shoulder, holding himself stable, while the other has the sponge pressed carefully to his face.  It’s calming, soothing in the same way Max’s tiny hands are.

Once he’s finished, Rafael picks up the eyeliner and says, “Okay, close your eyes.” Magnus does.  Rafael traces careful lines along the bottom lid of his eyes, his calm breaths puffing against Magnus’s cheek.    

When Rafael is completely finished, he sits back on his knees, looking his work over.  Magnus snaps a mirror onto the bed and holds it to his face.  The dark brown eyeliner pops out against the light brown eyeshadow, which itself is blended and shaped perfectly.  There’s dark glitter dotted at the ends of his eyes, near his temple.  It’s honestly so well-done he’d go out in it.

“I look amazing,” Magnus says, then drops the mirror to gaze at Rafael, “You’ve got to let me show it off to Catarina and Ragnor.  And your brother.”

His dark face tints red. “Oh- no, it’s okay.”

Magnus grins. “You did a spectacular job. I’ve never had such dramatic contour.  And these wings? It looks like you’ve done them with magic—which I often do, I’m sorry to say.  It’s much easier.”

“I’m covered in glitter,” Rafael says, not in distress so much as disbelief. He looks down the front of his violet dress shirt, awestruck.

“Thank goodness,” Magnus says, looking at Rafael seriously before breaking into a grin. Rafael glances at his grinning face and one starts to form on his—but he’s holding it back.  Magnus leans towards him. “Do you think we could ever manage to convince your father to wear some?”  

Rafael loses it, a burst of laughter bubbling out of his mouth. He falls onto his back, clutching his stomach, reeling in giggles.  Happy tears start to from in the corners of his eyes.

It’s the first time Magnus has ever seen him look completely his age.

He grins.  Both because of Rafael’s uncontrolled laughter, and because the thought of Alexander covered in glitter _is_ decidedly hilarious. Though a part of him can think of other adjectives for it, in a different setting.

“Come on,” Magnus says, standing up and smiling at Rafael, “It would be far too tragic to let your work go unseen.”

Alec’s older son rolls his eyes, but his lips tug up and he slips off the bed. His socked feet tap quietly on the hardwood as he follows Magnus out into the living room.

“Woah!!!!!” Max says when Rafael and Magnus step into the room.  He’s interrupted whatever Catarina and Ragnor were showing him.  All three Warlocks turn their heads. “Magnus, you’re so sparkly!”

Magnus dips his head in a small polite bow. “Why thank you, blueberry.  Your brother is the artist.”

Beside him, Rafael goes red.

“Rafael, right?” Catarina looks over at him, her face relaxed and smiling. He nods at her. “My name is Catarina, but you can call me Cat.”  He says hi shyly. “Could I persuade you to do my makeup next?” She grins.

Max’s face lights up like a rocket. “Mine too!! Raf, you gotta do mine!”

Rafael looks between Catarina and Max and then, eyes fearful but in a much more appropriate way for a seven-year-old, he looks up at Magnus.

Magnus smiles at him. “I believe it is _my_ turn to do _his_ makeup,” he says, winking at Rafael.  “Max, how would you like to do Ragnor’s?” His smirk is vicious.

Ragnor rolls his eyes to the moon and back. “If you think that’s going to bother me, you clearly don’t know me very well.”

“I’ve known you for three-hundred years!”

“Max,” Catarina says, cutting the other two off, “Can I do yours? I know how to work with blue skin.”

“With glitter?”

“No question.” She smiles.

Max pulls himself up onto the loveseat, sitting on the armrest. Magnus sits down on the couch, telling Ragnor to move, and Rafael sits next to him. He snaps all of the makeup from his bedroom onto a table near them.

“How do you feel about purple eyeliner?” Magnus asks.

Rafael grins.  His white teeth stand out dramatically, the smile loud and long.  Magnus feels himself relax at the sight.  Feels dust shake out of his joints, like he’s made less heavy, less anxious, just as Rafael is.

By the end of the night, Max, Catarina, Rafael, and Magnus are all done up. Ragnor even lets Magnus and Max paint his nails.  Bright pink.  

“I think – yes. _This_ is my colour,” he says, holding a hand out towards Max and Rafael, who are sat together next to Magnus on the long couch. Catarina is in one love seat, and Ragnor is in the other. But they’d dragged the furniture closer together, for nail painting and makeup purposes.

Rafael snorts.

Max starts to laugh, but it turns into a long, soft yawn.

Magnus looks down at him. “Tired, blueberry?”

“What time is it?” Rafael says, “His bedtime’s eight.”

“Eight-thirty,” Catarina says.

Max leans on Magnus’s arm, eyes fighting to stay open.  Magnus lifts his arm so his blue head can rest on his side. “Come on, I’ll put you in my room.”

“No.” Max grabs at Magnus’s shirt. “I wanna stay here.”

“Uh huh, and I want a summer home in Ecuador.”  

Max yawns again and clambers into Magnus’s lap, turning to face him. “What’s a ecwador?” He asks, words drug out with tiredness.  His eyes flutter again. He sets his head just below Magnus’s chest.

“It’s a country in South America.”

“Magnus,” Max says, yawning again, “You can’t go to Southmerica.”

Magnus rubs at his back, Max’s heartbeat thudding lightly against him.  He sends a soft wave of magic through him.  It’s not to make him sleep, just the normal energy they share whenever they’re like this. Max sighs happily.

“Why not?”

“You gotta…” His eyes fall shut. “You’ll…” Max is out in seconds, his breathing even and calm.

“Night, blueberry.” Magnus kisses him on his hair.

“Can I take him to your bed?” Rafael asks.

“Of course,” Magnus says.  He lifts Max off him and gives him to his brother.  Rafael leaves the room, and Magnus can’t help the dopey smile that invades his face, watching him cart his little brother off to bed.

When Magnus looks away after Rafael and Max are gone, Ragnor and Catarina are gawking at him.

“What?” He asks, staring at them, surprised by their expressions.

“My friend,” Ragnor starts, “you are  _enamoured_.”

“I’ve always wanted to see you with kids of your own.” Catarina smirks at him. “How are things going with their father?”

“Does Raphael know you’re twitterpated over two tiny children or shall I text him immediately?”

Catarina swipes at Ragnor, lightly.  She smiles at Magnus.  “You seem really happy – that’s all we mean.”

Magnus feels something more than just happy, though he does not tell them so.

Ragnor and Catarina leave around nine-thirty. Magnus hugs them both goodbye, and Rafael comes over to the door to bid them farewell too.  There’s no fear in his eyes or in the way he holds himself, and he’s in a flat full of Warlocks.

“Rafael, take care of this ancient thing,” Ragnor says, “He’s delicate.”

Magnus sends a curt, sarcastic smile at his old friend, tilting his head slightly as he does.  

Rafael holds a hand out.  Ragnor takes it, and Alec's older son shakes his hand, looking seriously up into his timeworn eyes.

“I will,” Rafael says.

Magnus’s sarcastic expression crumbles.  A dumbfounded one takes over. And he recognizes now what his heart is doing.  The dip in it, the sunken pressure, the mad ferocity that hooks around it like a padlock. The word _protect_ cutting into it like a brand.

He’ll love Rafael just as much as Max.

He’s already falling, already wants to wrap him up and save him from a world that’s been too harsh.  

Magnus takes a deep breath.  When he lets it go he’s not steady, but he’s warm.

“Nice to meet you, Rafael,” Catarina smiles at him, “If you and your aunt ever want a shopping buddy, let me know.  Magnus has my number.”

“Okay.”

Catarina waves as she leaves the apartment, Ragnor trailing after her.

Once Magnus has gathered himself, he looks down at Rafael. “Would you like to watch a movie until your father comes to get you?”

Magnus hardly ever uses his television, but he does have Netflix, and since he’s a Warlock, he has world-wide access.  He loads it up, opens the ‘family’ section, and lets Rafael choose. He scrolls until he finds Spanish titles and clicks on one called Muñeca Brava.  Magnus’s Spanish is rusty, but he’s fairly certain there’s a gradual romance blooming between the two main characters.

“Yeah,” Rafael says when Magnus voices the question. “They don’t get together until…” he yawns, cutting himself off, “until the end of the show, though.”

Magnus looks down at him. “How many times have you seen it?”

“A few.” He yawns again.

Rafael is wrapped in a blanket, knees hugged to his chest, tired lines forming under his eyes.  But he looks relaxed.  

Magnus feels himself smile. “What else do you watch?”

“America’s Next Top Model, Project Runway, um… oh, and Face Off.”

Magnus grins at him. Somehow he’s not surprised.

After about twenty minutes, Rafael is slumped against him, sleeping soundly.  

 

* * *

 

When Alec walks into Magnus’s flat at eleven-fourteen – and he does notice, this time, that all the doors open for him – he stops, standing still in the small hallway that leads from the front door to the living room.

Magnus and Rafael are both fast asleep, Raf lying with the side of face smushed into Magnus’s arm and Magnus with his head tilted towards Rafael.  The tv is on but whatever they’d been watching had stopped playing, the dark glow from it over them the only indication that it’s on at all.  

Alec walks in further, but he doesn’t wake them up.  He watches Rafael, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the calmness around his eyes and jaw.  He looks at peace, which is something he’d lost after what had happened when they’d gone shopping.

Something had given it back to him.

“Magnus,” Alec whispers.  He looks relaxed too, but that angle can’t be good for his neck. Alec sets fingers on his shoulder. Whispers again, “Magnus.”

Two green cat’s eyes blink open.  Once they’re focused, Magnus smiles at him, bleary and padded with sleep. “Alexander.” His voice is husky.

“Hey.”

The hand Magnus doesn’t have pinned to his side by Rafael comes up and holds Alec’s, brings it to his neck.  Alec’s heart races as his fingers slide over tendons his eyes have been obsessed with for months.

“Did you discover how your intruder managed to get past the wards?” Some of which are Magnus’s, and Alec hopes he’s not feeling guilty.  But right now Magnus just seems half-asleep and listless, languid and snug.

“No,” Alec says. Magnus rubs a thumb over the back of his hand. “Izzy thinks it might’ve been a malfunction in the security system.” Alec lets his fingers rub lightly at the neck under them, his head heating up as he does. “How’d everything go here?”

Magnus smiles. “Your son did my makeup.”

“Max?”

“Rafael.”

“Really?” Alec’s eyebrows find his hairline.

Magnus begins untangling himself from the couch and Raf, letting go of Alec’s hand.  He stands up, being sure to hold Raf’s head and set him down along the couch gently. Magnus takes his feet and puts them on the couch too.

He yawns, small and high.  His nose scrunches up. Alec wonders if he yawns like that in the morning, too.  If he’ll ever get to see it.

Magnus walks towards his room, and Alec follows. “Should I get Max?”

“No.”

Turning to face him, stood along the bar, Magnus raises an eyebrow.

Alec clarifies.  “I mean, in a minute.” He moves a hand, wants to put it on Magnus pretty much anywhere, suggestive or not, but he drops it.  He feels awkward, doing it just like that.  Alec rubs the back of his neck instead. “I...” He looks at Magnus. “I want to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“Nothing.” Alec sets his hand at his side. “We haven’t seen each other in days. Well except for the two seconds it took me to drop Max and Raf off.”

“Oh.” Magnus is smiling, small and genuine.  His shoulders swing, making him look fully awake now. He takes a step towards Alec. Alec’s eyes drop to his hips. “Are you sure you just want to talk?” He asks.

Alec forces his eyes back up. He knows Magnus is kidding because Rafael is across the room, but his heart beats faster all the same.

“Thank you,” Alec says. “For watching them.  I could’ve taken them to a few places but I feel better with them here.”

Magnus takes a step closer again, well inside Alec’s space. He reaches to cup Alec’s jaw but Alec catches his hand instead.  He holds it just above his own shoulder.  Every inch of him had been waiting for Magnus to touch him again and even though his hand on Alec’s cheek would've been more intimate, maybe, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and getting Magnus on some part of him, as soon as possible.

“I’d rather they were here too,” Magnus says.

Cupping the back of Magnus’s hand, Alec brings it down onto own neck.  He rests Magnus’s hand over the same tendons Alec had been touching on his before.

“I must admit,” Magnus says, stepping in closer still.  Their bodies are nearly lined up. Alec shivers when Magnus moves his hand, only a fraction, rubbing against his neck, “This glacial pace is unbecoming.”

Alec laughs, but it comes out faint, more like a breath. “Yeah?” He grips the hand on his neck, moves his fingers in between Magnus’s, and rubs a thumb around the side and against his palm.  It’s electrifying for Alec and he hopes it is for Magnus too—thinks it might be, when his vertical pupils blow wide. “Can you think of a way to speed things up?” He asks, looking down at the other man.

“Alexander, you’re being indecent,” Magnus whispers. He sets his free hand on Alec’s waist, delicate fingers barely slipping under his shirt. Alec’s gaze falls down to watch. “But I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Magnus moves his hand up into Alec’s shirt, resting on bare skin.  Alec sucks in a breath—no one’s ever touched him there and he feels pathetic, being so affected by it.  But when he looks away from his hips and back up, Magnus’s lips are parted, his eyes stuck on Alec, his face tinted pink.

“Don’t keep a guy waiting,” Alec says.

A hurried rush, Magnus tilting his head to meet Alec as he leans down, the sound of silence when they both stop breathing, little footsteps padding on the hardwood.

“Dad?”

Max’s voice.

Alec closes his eyes and reminds himself that he _loves_ his kids.

Magnus takes his hand out from under his shirt. Alec moves their hands off his neck, but keeps them held together, turning to face his son.

“Hey, Max.”

Max looks at their hands but doesn’t seem too interested. “Are you okay?”

Alec bends down and picks Max up, letting go of Magnus when he does.  But he holds Max in between them, standing close.  “I’m fine.”  Alec kisses his temple. “Did you have fun with Magnus?”

“Yeah!” He says, practically glowing, “Dad I met _two_ _other_ Warlocks!  One’s a cabbage and Catarina’s blue too and they taught me how to- to- to-” he stops and, with a determined expression, claps his hands together, right in front of his teensy blue nose.  

A handful of glitter rains from the air above them, showering down on Alec, Magnus, and Max.

Max grins as it falls all over them – and Magnus’s clean floor.

Alec levels him with a stare. “Max…”

“Wonderful job, blueberry,” Magnus says, smiling, “I was talking to Rafael earlier about wanting to see your father covered in glitter.”

Alec wipes it from his eyes. “Let’s go get your brother,” he says, and makes his way back over to the couch.

Rafael groans and pushes Alec’s hands away when Alec shakes him gently. “Raf, come on.  We’re going home.”

“Don’wanna,” he mumbles.

“Raf.”

Two brown eyes blink open. “Dad?”  He squints one eye. “Why are you covered in glitter?”

Alec huffs. “Ask your brother.”

Rafael looks at Max, in Magnus’s arms now. “Did you cover Dad in glitter?”

“Uh huh.”

Rafael grins. “Nice.”

“Okay, enough.” Alec puts one hand on his hip. “We need to give Magnus back his apartment.”

After giving him a kiss, Magnus hands Max to Rafael, who holds his brother against his hip.  Then he opens a portal, not waiting for Alec to object.

“Magnus, I parked the van outside.”

“I’ll send it back too.” He’d done so the first time Alec had come by.

“You don’t need to do this all the time.”

Magnus smiles. “I know.” He looks at Max and Rafael. “I’ll see you two later.”

“See ya, Magnus!”

“Bye.” Rafael looks up at him shyly. “Thanks for…” He grips his brother tighter. “Thanks.”

Magnus’s heart stutters at the two of them looking up at him. “Anytime,” he says, the word almost watery.

“Uh –” Alec’s heart thuds when Magnus’s eyes to jump to him.  “Sunday,” he says.  Then tries again, tampering down his nerves, “I’m– Sunday.”

Magnus laughs. “Yes Alexander, that is a day of the week.”

“I mean,” Alec tries his best to ground himself, wonders how and why it can be so easy to talk to Magnus at one moment, and so impossible the next. “I’m looking forward to Sunday night.”

Magnus grins at him.   

Alec turns to go, not wanting to embarrass himself even more. But as he turns he _trips_ backward into the portal.  His eyes go wide and then he’s falling through it, the sound of Magnus calling his name echoing all around him.

Alec falls onto the floor of the Institute, landing on his back.

His phone buzzes.  Not bothering to get up off the floor, Alec checks it.

_Are you alright?_

_Yes. Please pretend that never happened._

_I saw nothing._

Alec puts his phone away.

Raf walks through a moment later, Max in his arms. “Smooth, Dad.”

Ignoring his son’s jab at him, Alec sits up, cross-legged on the floor.  He looks over at both of his kids.

“Are you two okay with this?”

Max looks confused. “With what?”

“Dad has a date with Magnus,” Rafael explains, setting Max on his feet.

Max looks at Alec with his mouth stretched into an ‘O’ and his eyes gaping, big and blue. “Does that mean I can call him Papa???”

Alec’s chest constricts and the feeling surges all the way to his lower stomach, cutting like a blade. “No, Max.”

“Bu- But-”

“Max.” Alec puts a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t, okay? Not right now.”

“Why?” He scowls. It’s past midnight, he’s got to be overtired.  He de-ages about one full year when he doesn’t sleep enough. “I _wanna_.”

There’s no point in trying to have this conversation when Max is like this, so Alec lifts him up and starts walking towards Max’s room, Rafael beside him.

Once he’s tucked in a sleeping soundly, Alec takes Rafael to his room.  Raf climbs into bed, yawning.  He looks so much happier than when Alec had left him at Magnus’s place earlier that evening.  

“Raf,” he starts, sitting down on his bed, “Are you okay with this?”

Silence.  Rafael’s hands grip at his comforter, his eyes stay glued to a wall.

“Did you have fun over at Magnus’s place?” Alec tries.

“Yeah.” Rafael looks at his hands.

Alec takes one of them, holding it in his palm. “Did he do your nail polish?”

“Yeah.”

“The purple eyeliner’s nice,” Alec says, peering at his son’s face.

“Thanks.”

More silence.

“Raf,” Alec runs a finger around his ear, moving dark hair away. Rafael breathes easier, doesn’t tense up like he had before. “I’m not going to date him if you’re not ready, so you need to tell me if you’re not.”

“It’s fine, Dad.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Rafael nods, meeting Alec’s eyes. “He’s… It’s fine.”  Alec studies him.  Raf huffs.  “ _Really_ Dad.”

“Alright.” Alec leans in and kisses his forehead.  “But if it starts to be too much, tell me.”

“Okay, okay,” Rafael rolls his eyes, “Would you leave me alone?”

Alec wraps him in a big hug.  “Never gonna happen.”

 

* * *

 

It’s quiet and Rafael is half asleep and he feels warm and safe, a thousand thoughts flowing slowly through his mind, all of them ringing of ‘home.’ Magnus doesn’t want to hurt his brother, Dad, or him.  Magnus wants a family that loves him and Rafael knows his has enough love to make him whole.  Max came from somewhere bad and he and Dad made him better, they could do it for Magnus too.

Rafael rolls over, the sweet press of larger hands that care for him sitting like a memory everywhere Dad and Magnus had held him tonight.

But as he rolls over, something freezing hikes up his spine.  

“Oh my poor, _poor_ flower,” her soft voice fills the room, “So young. So naive.  They should be ashamed, lying to a little kid.”

Rafael sits up in a rush, blankets falling down to his waist. He pants.  He’s sweating.

“Get out,” Rafael says.

She smiles wider. Too wide.

“Get out.” He says it louder. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“He’s lying to you, little one.” The woman sits on his bed where Dad had been an hour ago and she tries to touch him, but Rafael backs away. “Magnus wants nothing more than power.”

“I don’t believe you.”  He doesn’t he doesn’t he _doesn’t_ —

She laughs. “What would a four-hundred-year-old Warlock ever want with a mortal brat like you? Like your father? Two people who will die on him in what, sixty years for your father, eighty for you?  Do you think you’re worth anything to him?”

“Magnus-” likes him, he _does_ , he did his nails and he watched tv with him and he-

“Is a _liar_.” The woman’s eyes are just as cold as the rest of her.  Rafael doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want to _believe_ it -

– _what would an immortal Warlock ever want – mortal brat – like your father – sixty years – you think you’re worth anything –_

“You think he cares about you?”

– _I’ve never had kids of my own, Rafael –  I don’t know what it’s like to wake up everyday to the same people – Who taught you how to do this?_ –

“What would an immortal Warlock care for a future _corpse_?”

– _You’ll be the dead he doesn’t talk about, someday_ –

“All he’s after, Rafael, is power.”

– _Do you think we could ever manage to convince your father to wear some? –_

“He’ll probably marry your father and then kill him to get it.”

“Get out!!” He shouts, grabbing the sides of his head, curling in on himself.

She laughs.

In a rush Rafael reaches down his shirt to grab at the necklace, meaning to throw it away.

His fingers grip nothing but air.  Heart pounding, he hurries to tug the top of his pyjama shirt down, searching for the delicate chain that should be strung down his front, where it has been for days, letting him talk to her as much as he wants.

When he looks down, the flower pendant is drawn on his chest.  It’s scarred into him, just like a rune.

She laughs again as he looks up at her in fear. It’s a cracked, ugly sound. It reminds him of empty egg shells, void of life and jagged.  

“So _sorry_ , little one.  You’re stuck with me.” She smiles and runs a finger down the side of his neck.  Her eyes gleaming, Rafael can’t move. Then her smile drops, her fangs shine, and she pokes a sharp nail against his neck. He feels blood spill out.  “As soon as you’re no longer useful, he’s going to drop you. Just like the dead weight you are.”

The woman disappears, but her words swirl through Rafael’s mind.  He dives under his blankets and wraps the sheets around his head. He refuses them over and over, her words; he tries to drown them out with the gentle way Magnus had held his hand, how warm he was to fall asleep on, tries to remember _his_ words.

_I hadn’t really thought of it in terms of ‘wanting something’ from you._

_I've never loved someone the way I love your little brother._

_Yes. When I saw your father for the first time, it was…..._

You're _just as new for me as I am for you._

_You’re all nothing but a commodity to him._

Rafael groans and turns over, burying his face into the pillow, wishing he could stop thinking, even for a second.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me: [CLICK](http://chairmanmeow-and-church.tumblr.com/) :'D Or leave a comment, I love this chapter.


	17. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in two days!
> 
> Thanks to [bleedingoptimism](http://bleedingoptimism.tumblr.com/) for the Spanish.
> 
> Thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) like always.

 

“No Dad, not that one,” Rafael says, sighing and rubbing his face in dismay.

Alec looks at himself in the mirror.  He’s wearing a black dress shirt, one he wears to the Seelie Court pretty often. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s boring.”

“I wear it all the time.”

Rafael flings himself backward on the bed, groaning in the fashion of one who has long-suffered. “ _Exactly_.”

Max falls back on the bed too, copying his brother. He laughs and rolls over until he smacks into Rafael, laughing even harder.

“Max,” Rafael says, gripping at his shoulders, “This is really important. We need aunt Izzy. Can you go get her?”

Nodding with wide eyes at his brother, Max scurries out of the room.  

Alec fingers the top buttons of the dress shirt, looking down at himself.  He knows it’s plain, but he feels comfortable in it.  Magnus has already seen him wearing it at least a dozen times.  Alec isn’t any good at this stuff.  He’s not as completely inept as his older son makes him out to be, but aside from looking presentable for work, he’s never cared about his clothes.  They’re just a utility to him.

But Magnus likes clothes. He _does_ express himself like that. Alec thinks it’ll make Magnus happy if it looks like he’s put effort into how he’s dressed.  If he changes what he wears on special occasions like this.  And he likes Magnus's eyes on him; they shamelessly take all of Alec, without trying to change him.

There are so many things Alec can’t figure out how to make himself say with his mouth, but he can do this.

“Hey, big brother,” Isabelle says as she’s pulled into the room by a determined Max.  “I hear you need my expertise.”

“Yes,” Rafael says, still lying flat on his back. “Save him, aunt Izzy.  I give _up_.” He flings a hand in the air and lets it drop.

Isabelle laughs.

She digs through his closet and gives Alec a few options.  She has to look way in the back, shirts he’s worn to Clave meetings or dinners he’d had to attend over the years.  None of them are good enough.  She seems to know just by reading his face.

“You know what?” She turns to look at him.  Alec is standing in front of his mirror, holding the ends of a dark green shirt and wondering why he’d ever bought it.  “Wait right here.”

She leaves and comes back in a minute, a box grasped in her hands.  Max and Rafael turn their heads from the book Rafael is reading.  Isabelle smiles at him. “I got this for you for Christmas. But I think you could use it now.” Most Shadowhunters don’t celebrate the holiday, and none for its religious significance, but Jace, Izzy and himself always spend the night together and exchange gifts. “Open it.”

Alec looks at her. When she pushes the box into his hands further, he grips the top and pulls it back.  He lifts the shirt up, setting the box on his dresser.  

It’s a navy blue button-down with white buttons, and sleeves rolled to the elbows.  The cuffs are the same navy blue with white lines etching a damask pattern over them. He stares at it with mild fascination.

“What do you think?”

Alec goes into his bathroom to change.

He pulls the black shirt off and slips the new one on, watching himself in the mirror.  It hugs him comfortably.  He can see- he’s shaped in it.  He’s not going to think about it anymore than that.

When he comes back out, Isabelle and Rafael beam at him. “Dad!!” Rafael hops off the bed and grabs a white belt — Isabelle’s. “Put this with it!” He thrusts it at Alec.

Alec slips it through the loops of his black pants.  It stands out, along with the white buttons and white patterned cuffs, but the dark navy of the shirt is something he’s used to, comfortable with.

“Buena elección, mijo.”  
  
“Gracias.” Raf sighs up at her.  “Tia Izzy, Papá se iba a poner una remera negra y pantalones negros. En una cita!”  
  
She laughs. “Suerte que nos tiene a nosotros, huh?”  
  
“Ni que lo digas.”  

Rafael goes back to the bed upon Max’s insistence.

Isabelle turns toward Alec.  She tugs at the bunched fabric around his shoulders, smoothing it out. “Magnus won’t know what hit him, mi hermano.”

“Dad!” Max calls, “Don’t hit Magnus!”

Rafael rolls his eyes. “It’s an expression, Max.  Aunt Izzy just means that Magnus will like it.”

“Ooooh.” Max looks from his brother back to his dad. “Magnus will like it, Dad.” Max grins. “It’s blue!”

Rafael rolls his eyes again, this time they nearly hit the ceiling in his distress. “Blue isn’t the best colour, you know.”

“It is!” Max looks terribly offended, and concerned that his brother is under such a huge misapprehension. “Raf, it _is_.”

Moving his attention away from his kids who are inevitably about to argue, Alec looks at Isabelle. He holds his arms out, eyes going to the patterned cuffs. “Isn’t it a bit much?”

“Alec,” Izzy smiles at him, “you look good.  But if you’re not comfortable, just wear the black one.”

He’s unsure about the cuffs, and he’s twice as unsure about the white belt.  It matches and brings out the cuffs and buttons and Alec can see it looks nice. It just feels like he’s wearing a traffic light.  But…

Magnus will probably like it like that.  

“It’s fine,” Alec says.  His voice squeaks a little, his heart speeding up.

Isabelle breathes out of her nose at him, smiling.  She steps closer. “Alec, relax. This is easy.”

He licks his lips, looking around the walls behind her. When he does speak, he looks into her eyes. “Yeah, for _you_.” His voice hikes up an octave. “You used to do this sort of thing all the time.”

She puts a hand on his elbow, steadying her gaze over his.  “You want to spend time with him, right?” Alec nods, feels his throat start to close up. “Just focus on that.”

“But what if-” He lowers his voice, making sure his kids can’t hear, and leans forward, down towards his sister, “What if he asks me back to his place?” He’s not ready for that. He’s so not ready for that.    
  
Except he maybe he _is_ ready for that.  Maybe that’s the scary part.

“Alec, you’re thinking too black and white.” Izzy tugs at his sleeve. “Just because he invites you over doesn’t mean he’s asking for sex. Okay? And if he does suggest it and you don’t want to, you tell him,” she says, shrugging with a simple smile.

“But-”

“ _No buts._ ” She frowns. “Don’t pressure yourself into doing anything. I mean it. It would hurt you,” Izzy folds her arms, flicking her eyes at him, “ _and_ it would hurt Magnus.”

Alec doesn’t want that.  

He laughs, nervousness spilling the sound out of him, “I feel like our roles are reversed. Shouldn’t I be giving my little sister advice?”

Isabelle waves a hand at him. “You had to deal with being the oldest.” He’d always taken the brunt of what Mom and Dad had to offer; Isabelle is beyond ecstatic to see him doing more and more things for himself, his way. “It’s not your fault.”  She bumps his upper arm with her shoulder when his expression doesn’t loosen up. “Seriously mi hermano, just go out and have _fun_. Order a glass of wine, it will help you relax.”

Despite the butterflies breeding and buzzing in his chest, Alec bumps her shoulder back and smiles.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant Magnus had told Alec to meet him at is called Jalene's. It’s a Downworlder spot but one known for being more open to Shadowhunters.  Over the past four or five years, more and more places have sprung up with similar mentalities, though Alec isn't sure the openness will extend to him specifically.

People are going to notice him and Magnus out together.  They had when they’d gone looking for suits.  No Downworlder would blink twice at two men out on a date, and Alec is determined not to care if anyone does—but them together? Their titles? It’s one thing for rumours to spread about the Seelie Queen trying to court him—Seelies and Shadowhunters have a slightly better history, and he hasn’t been seen with her outside of work.  But Shadowhunters have been misusing and mistreating Warlocks and their magic for centuries.  When he’s seen on this date with Magnus, people are going to react.  While it might not all be negative, it’s not going to be quiet either.  

What is he getting himself in to?

And more importantly, why doesn’t Alec care at all?  It feels like when he’d decided to fight for Max.  It’s worth whatever happens.

And he wants to see Magnus.  He wants to be alone with him, to have all of his attention.  

Alec gives the host at the door Magnus’s name, and her eyes widen.  He clears his throat, as politely as possible.  “Oh, sorry,” she says.  Wings flutter out behind her, transparent and sparkling pink. “Right with me.”  

She takes him to a small table sat beside a tall window.  It’s private, quiet despite the busy restaurant, and soft moonlight cascades over the white long tablecloth.  It’s so heavily romantic Alec snorts; it’s so _Magnus_ he smiles a second after.

He’s a little early.  He takes a seat, waiting, staring out at the night sky.

After a few minutes Alec’s heart starts thudding, his knee bouncing under the table.  Their server comes over, another Faerie.  Her wings are smaller and yellow, her skin dark brown.  She asks him if he’d like anything while he waits.  Alec stutters, ordering a drink she suggests, something he hardly hears her say.

He’s just taking a sip of it, eyes darting around the dimly lit restaurant in search of him, when Magnus walks through the front entrance.

Alec’s breath catches.  His chest flutters, the pressure of heat shooting up his throat. He’s pretty far away, but that doesn’t seem to matter.  

Alec watches him until he's at the table.

“Hello,” Magnus says.  

He’s wearing a black long sleeved shirt with lace covering the front, roses patterned through it; there’s a red shirt under it, but it’s fitted and silk and Alec’s mind offers all too easily a picture of what he would look like without that shirt, two brown nipples skirting around under the opaque fabric. Alec has seen him in a lot of different outfits, each as distracting as the next, revealing or not. But this one he’d worn for the exact purpose of seeing Alec — and it’s _lace_.  His burgundy pants hug his hips and Alec’s eyes fall down for a moment, his stomach falling with them.  Then he looks back up at his chest again.

He can see the outline of his pectorals as Magnus sits down.

“Alexander, you look…” Alec blinks, focusing himself.  Magnus’s eyes are lilting all over him. He doesn’t finish.

“You, um,” Alec’s nerves strike up alight wherever Magnus’s eyes roam, “You look good.” He groans inwardly. “I mean-” His foot starts tapping under the table. “You look- I-” Magnus’s eyes go to his arms.  Alec feels them tense until his clavicle goes rigid, his chest curling in a sensation so strong and vivid it’s almost painful except it’s rousing and high and fleeting and _holy hell—_  “Magnus-”

“You’re not playing fair, Alexander,” Magnus says, dark eyes raking up and down Alec’s arms still, “That shirt is simply…”

“What?”

“Give me a moment,” Magnus says, eyes still glued to Alec’s body.  They widen when they grace over his chest.  Alec feels like Magnus is doing more than looking. It’s embarrassing but it’s also exciting, feels unbelievably hot.  Alec’s head spins, and he fights against his cock threatening to react.

“Okay,” Magnus says, looking into Alec’s eyes. He grins. “As I was trying to say, you look absolutely gorgeous.”  Before Alec can even start to stutter a rejection or a thank you or a compliment of his own, Magnus speaks again. “What are you drinking?”

“I don’t know.” Alec picks up the glass. His hand is shaking. He takes a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. _Seriously mi_ _hermano_ _, just go out and have fun._  “You want to try it and see?”

Magnus takes the glass, their fingers brushing.  

“Cosmopolitan,” he says, “I have a friend who loves these.”

Alec tampers down his heart. “Yeah?”

“Catarina is her name.” He sets the drink back in front of Alec. “Max has met her.  The night you brought them to my place. He was delighted to get to know another blue Warlock.”

Alec smiles. “I bet he was.”

Magnus smiles back at him, just looking for a slow moment.  Alec gazes at his eyeliner, black and glittering along the corners. His lips are glossed.  Alec hadn’t known he’d find something like that so appealing.

“Have you found suits for the wedding yet?”

“Oh, uh....” Alec looks at his dark eyes.  He wonders why they’re glamoured. “I found some for me and Max. Not Raf, though. He’s picky, if you can believe it.”

Magnus laughs.  It pours over Alec like a heavy waterfall, powerful and drowning out all the other noises in the room. “Is he really?” Alec huffs, sharing a knowing look with the man across from him. “The wedding is next week. Aren’t you cutting it a little short?”

“Don’t remind me.” Alec sighs. He’d taken Raf out twice, but nothing had been good enough for him, and it’d turned into a fight both times.  If it were anything other than Izzy’s wedding, Alec would buy him a suit and tell him to deal with it.  He’s done so before. Rafael needs to learn he can’t always have things his way.  But Alec wants him to wear something he likes to his aunt’s wedding. He knows that to Rafael it’s something important.

Magnus eyes him a moment. Then he asks, “Would it be alright if I bought one for him?” Alec parts his lips to reply, but Magnus continues, “And before you tell me I don’t need to, I’ll tell you I _want_ to.”

Alec’s opened mouth slips into a small grin. He shakes his head. “Alright, you can try.  He’s impossible to please though.”

“He can’t be as bad as his father.”

Alec raises an eyebrow.  He’s always considered himself pretty easy to make happy. “I’m not impossible to please.” 

“You are,” Magnus says, taking his drink again and sipping at it.

Alec squints one eye at him, gaping slightly. “Get your own drink.”

“See? Impossible.”

“That doesn’t count, you’re insulting me _and_ stealing my stuff.”

Magnus takes another sip. “You wouldn’t like it anyway Alexander, it’s beyond your meager tastes.” He grins over the rim of the glass as Alec gapes wider.

“Okay, I’m definitely not sharing now,” Alec says. He reaches out and snaps it right out of Magnus’s hand and mouth, careful of his teeth.  

Alec squints at him dramatically and downs the rest of the drink as he does.  He sets the empty glass on the table.  “There.”

Magnus stares at him, surprised and dazed for a moment, and then laughs.  

A grin blooms over Alec’s face at the sound. And at the fact that he’d caused it.

“Not to turn the conversation heavy,” Alec flicks his gaze away from Magnus's glassy pink lips, back to his eyes,“but has Rafael told you anything more about what happened to him?”

Alec shakes his head. He’d asked Rafael about it again and Izzy and Jace had tried talking to him too, but he won’t open up to anyone.  “He still won’t talk about it. It’s like he doesn’t trust us, Izzy and Jace and me.  Which… I mean he has a hard time trusting people, but usually he’s fine with _us_.”

“Well,” Magnus crosses his legs under the table. Alec feels a foot brush over his knee, probably an accident. “Magic is enigmatic, Alexander. He might not be _able_ to tell you.”

“Really?”

Magnus nods. 

Their server interrupts a moment later, introducing herself and asking if they’d like any drinks.  She’s a little nervous and her eyes dart back and forth between them.  She leaves after they order, telling them she’ll only be a minute.

When she’s gone, Magnus looks at him.  That drink starts to hit Alec.  Cosmopolitans must be strong.

Magnus’s glossy mouth shines at him as he asks, “How do you like it here?”

Alec has barely noticed the decor, even when he’d been waiting for Magnus. He does not care about it at all. “I like it here,” he says.  He knows his response doesn't make total sense, but it’s exactly what he wants to say.  

“Hm?” Magnus leans forward, grinning like a cat.

A socked foot presses into Alec’s shin.

Alec stiffens, but he doesn’t shy away from it.  He locks eyes with Magnus. “This table is really small.”

“Yes.” The foot on his shin presses in. “I requested it specifically when I made the reservation.”

“Of course you did.”

“Are you complaining?” He moves his foot down to Alec’s ankle.

A shiver runs through him, but Alec is determined to keep his expression under control. “It _is_ a really small table.”

“See?” Magnus slides his foot around the back of his lower leg. The action sends signals firing through to Alec’s thighs. “Impossible to please.”

Biting his bottom lip, fighting through his nerves, Alec moves his legs forwards, giving him more access.

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “Where did my stuttering shy Shadowhunter go?”

Alec laughs lightly, has to look away for a beat.

“Ah,” Magnus hooks their ankles together. “There. Found him.”

Alec holds back another laugh, feeling ridiculous.  “Look, Magnus. I’ve never…” He loses his breath for a moment when Magnus’s knee, the one of the leg he doesn’t have wrapped around Alec’s, bumps into his own. “There wasn’t any time for dating, between Valentine and my kids.” Alec moves forwards more, pressing the sides of their legs together. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You certainly seem to,” Magnus says, raising a brow. He bumps their legs together to make his point.

Alec stifles another laugh. “I’m serious.  You’re…” He’s about to say ‘my first date,’ when the server comes back with their drinks.  Alec had ordered a type of Faerie wine, having become a little familiar with it.  Magnus asked for some expensive drink Alec can’t pronounce.

She asks them if they’re ready to order, but they haven’t even looked at the menu yet.  She says she’ll come back in a few minutes and leaves. Contrary to Alec’s prior concerns, aside from a few glances, no one in the restaurant seems to be paying them any attention at all.

“Alec,” he feels his eyes jump to Magnus as if on command, “It’s the same for me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

Alec breathes out his nose, indignant.  “You've dated a ton of people,” he says, recalling the stories Magnus had told him when they'd had drinks at his loft.

Magnus’s foot slides further towards him, his knee moving up Alec’s thigh.

Alec fights the urge to squirm in his seat.

“Sure, I even thought I was in love, once.” He wants to hear that story but  Alec keeps his mouth shut, clamped tight.  A quiver runs through his thighs. “I might be more comfortable with all of this,” Magnus says, waving a hand beside his head, gesturing to the restaurant and the two of them sat close together, “But I’m lost when it comes to everything else.”

“What do you mean? What else?”

Magnus’s easy expression wavers, turning into one of disbelief for a moment.  
  
“There's _you_ , first of all. And then there's your sons.” He looks at Alec a little helplessly. “I’d die for them and it would be easy.”   

Alec’s stomach flips, the same way it had when Magnus had put Max to bed.  That same feeling comes, the one tangled somewhere around ‘family’ and ‘lover,’ something he doesn’t know.

“I’ve told you before." Magnus feels heat swell in his chest, partially embarrassed, mostly afraid. "I’ve never... It’s not something I’m at all familiar with.”

“Magnus…”

“I’m not trying to push anything,” he looks over at Alec through his lashes, “But I cannot imagine my life without them in it. It’s as if my whole world is becoming two people.” Magnus's smile is small but sure. His knee moves further up Alec’s thigh. Alec holds back making a noise as it gets closer and closer to his groin. “Three people,” Magnus says, looking over at him with faux-coyness.

Alec goes pink. It dawns on him that even though they’re relatively secluded, people can probably see their legs tangled together.  Finds he doesn’t care—would rather everyone know Magnus is taken.

Nerves dancing, Alec forces himself to speak. “You’re their world too.” It’s absolutely true for Max, so close for Rafael. “And I…” But his mouth freezes after that, open, words caught at his throat.  

Alec takes a drink of his blue wine before he tries to speak again.  “Magnus, I…” He reaches across the table and takes Magnus’s hand. Alec can’t finish, so he just holds on, memorizes the press of his palm and makes a silent promise that he’ll tell Magnus, someday, exactly how he makes Alec feel.

Magnus runs his fingers over his palm.  Warmth breathes into his body as Magnus’s legs shift around his, making Alec’s muscles go slack and weak.

“Do you want to know what I like so much about you?” Magnus asks.

A beat passes them by. All he says is, “Sure,” but his heart is begging.

“There’s a price, though.”

Alec huffs, part-way to a laugh. “Of course there is.” He threads their fingers together and traps the foot Magnus has between his legs, wrapping his feet around his ankle and dragging Magnus’s whole leg forward. Alec grins when Magnus’s expression switches to something stunned. “What is it?” Alec asks.

Magnus unlocks their hands.  He sets his over the back of Alec’s, drawing lines from his knuckles to his wrist.  Alec sighs at the sensation, hopes it’s quiet enough that Magnus can’t hear it — but given how close they are, he's almost sure he can.

“You’ve got to kiss me first,” Magnus says, smirking. He keeps his eyes on their connected hands.

Alec watches his mouth and feels his senses focus on his own, hyper aware, the idea of pressing his lips against Magnus’s overflowing in his mind.  Alec wonders what his lip gloss tastes like.  It’s probably something sweet, something fruity.

“Then I’ll tell you,” Magnus finishes, flicking his eyes up to meet Alec’s.

The table is small enough that he could lean over and do it.  They’re at a nice restaurant, on a date, it’s a perfect opportunity — there’s nothing stopping him.  But Alec would rather do it standing, wants Magnus closer.  

Alec stands up, still holding Magnus's hand.  He rounds the table slowly but directly, just starting to tug Magnus to his feet.

Behind them, someone clears their throat.  

Alec thinks it must be their server and he’s about to fucking _whine_ he’s so done with the world interrupting him before he can kiss Magnus.

But Magnus’s eyes are wide. Alert.

Alec turns around.

Max’s biological mother stares back at him, her white hair framing her cold face.

“Is the Clave aware you’re having relations with a High Warlock?” She snaps, words curt.

Alec stands there, frozen.  He hasn’t seen her face-to-face since the final court battle, over a year ago.  Too many memories explode in his head. Her arms slinking around Max, his face going white and blank with dissociation, Rafael’s cracked sobbing as he hides in Alec’s chest, the gradual pulse of depression and desperation as he lets go of his brother, the joy of having Max back and the gouging open of old wounds when they lost him again and again and _again—_

“Seems like neglectful parenting to me. I’m sure it’s not safe for young ‘Max’ to be around such a dangerous person.”

Alec drops Magnus’s hand, turning completely.  Rage rises in him like a flood. “ _Him_? _He’s_ dangerous? Are you fucking—”

Allison cuts him off. Her eyes flash towards Magnus. “Banned from Peru and parts of Eastern Europe, political scandals throughout most of the Victorian Era, a notorious thief.” She looks at Alec again.  “Do you not know any of this, Alec?”

“You’re not supposed to be anywhere near the city,” he says, balling his fists.

“You’re just effusing ignorance.  Did your lawyer not know, or just not tell you? I found a little loophole.”

He rounds on her, taking a step forward. “What did you do to Rafael?”

“What would I want with a Shadowhunter brat?”

“If you hurt him,” Alec feels a hand on his back but barely registers it. His soul cracks, turning harsh and ragged, “If you touch him again I swe—”

“Alec.” Magnus presses into his back. “Don’t.”

“Oh no, please do.” She keeps her expression blank, professional. Patient.

“She’s trying to get you to say something stupid,” Magnus says from behind him.  “Keep your mouth shut.”

Alec wants to scream.  He leans back, pressing himself into Magnus’s hand.  Feels hot hair building in his lungs, scraping at his esophagus, blood roaring in his ears.  He’s not a violent person but when it comes to Max and Rafael, Alec’s pretty sure he’d damn the world to keep them safe.

“Looks like you’ve got a fetish for Warlocks, Alec.  Adding to your collection?”

Fingers dig at his back. Alec focuses on them.

“The Clave won’t like this.” She looks down her blue nose at him. “I may not be able to have my son back, but that does not mean you will keep him.”

She’s said as much before.  Magnus moves his hand, rubbing between Alec’s shoulder blades.  Alec counts to ten in his head.

“Well, enjoy your _date_.” She might as well have spat at him.

Allison leaves, heading back to wherever she’d come from. Alec watches her until she turns a corner, out of sight.

Alec stands still, taking lungfuls of thick air, his veins constricting.  

“Alec,” Magnus’s voice is as gentle as the hand on his back smoothing over his shoulder blades.

Lettings his fists untangle, letting his body go loose, he deflates.  Magnus sets a hand on his upper arm. Alec turns around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring at the floor beside them.  There are people watching them, he’s sure, but he doesn’t care.

Magnus searches him with tilted brows, concerned. “What for?”

Alec doesn't reply.  He’s sorry for dragging Magnus into the mess that is his life. He’s sorry they can’t go out in public without his history coming to ruin it. He’s sorry he’s mortal, too, but that’s been haunting him from the beginning.

Magnus puts a hand on his jaw, slow and soft.  Alec’s nerves are shot, too wound up from the evening and then seeing Allison again.  When his heart stutters at the touch, it hurts.

“Alexander.”

“Don’t…” He’s not sure what he’s asking Magnus not to do.

“Are you…”

Alec shakes his head, the action small but cutting Magnus's speech short.  He brings a hand up to cup the one holding his face, closing his eyes and leaning into it. He doesn’t want Magnus to doubt this.  He doesn’t want her words to come between him and another person he cares about.  Alec feels anger flare through him, fanning out like a wildfire.

But it’s gone as soon as it comes. Magnus’s thumb rubs along his jaw.

“Magnus, I need to go home.”  Alec keeps his eyes shut, frustration buzzing behind their lids. “I have to call Lydia.”

“I know.” Magnus’s hand leaves his face after a moment.  Alec’s whole body protests. “Come on, I’ll make you a portal outside.”

 

* * *

 

When he calls Lydia, she explains that in the case of immortals, biological mothers born in the eighteen hundreds are excused from restraining orders after one year, barring good behaviour.  He tells her that’s bullshit, and she readily agrees. She says she knew about the clause, but Allison’s records had said she was born in the fifteen-hundreds. So she’s either lying now, or she was lying in court all those years they’d fought over Max.

“Alec, she _won’t_ get him back.” Lydia shifts, the sound crackling through the line. “Not even the Clave would put a child back with his abuser. Not with all the evidence we have against her.”  They had done so before they’d had any evidence. But they won’t do it, not now that it would make them look bad.

“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But… I don’t want her here.  Max is finally starting to relax.  You should see how happy he is, Lydia.”

He can hear her smile. “That’s good to hear.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“The Clave just doesn't care enough, Alec. They’re still processing the assault form you submitted for Rafael.  Without any proof, though, I don’t think it’ll go anywhere.”

“So…”

She breathes out, frustrated. “All we can do is ignore her. I’m sorry.”

Sighing, he tells her it’s not her fault and thanks her. They say goodnight to each other and he hangs up.

Alec goes and checks on his sons.  Jace had watched them while he’d been out.  He goes to Rafael’s room first, staring at his dark face, heart straining. There is still something going on with him, something that’s wearing him down.  It’s not Magnus, not anymore. But Raf’s eyes are often clouded, and he’s been spacing out lately, as if he’s listening to a noise no one can hear but him.

Alec goes to Max’s room next.  He’s sleeping soundly, breathing peaceful.  Alec smiles at the sight for a moment, until worry edges in.

If anything _ever_ happened to them…

Alec had almost screwed up today. Allison's own threats regarding Magnus were empty.  The Clave is porbably more likely to let him keep Max if he's dating a Downworlder. But if Alec had threatened to kill her?  If he’d actually said the words?

He might have guardianship over Max but legally, he isn't listed as Max's father.  The Clave wants to be able to take Max away at any excuse. Alec is always walking next to a thin line where his custody over Max is concerned.  

Magnus had kept him on the right side of that line.

After he gets himself ready to sleep and slips into his bed, Alec unlocks his phone.  Max and Rafael’s face gleam up at him on his background.  Alec grins despite himself.

After staring for a while, he selects Magnus’s name from his contacts.

“Alexander.” Magnus sounds surprised as he answers.

“Hi.” Alec sets his back against the headboard. “Again.”  He tells Magnus what Lydia had said, recounting the last court case a little as well to give him context.

“The wards will keep her out of the school, the Institute, and my lair.  I can—”

“Magnus.” Alec cuts him off, smiling fully despite his exhaustion.  “Just.”  He leans his head back. “I called to thank you.”

“For what?”

“I almost lost my head.” He shifts, leaning his neck to the side to look at the roses.  Would Magnus have given him another one tonight if she hadn’t shown up?  Would he be in Magnus’s apartment right now instead of alone in his own bed? “With Allison.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“About what she said - I already know all of it. Or most of it. The Institute keeps files on you.”

“You’ve read up on me?”

Alec keeps his eyes on the roses.  “Before we met.” He thinks about how they haven’t wilted.  Wonders how long they’ll last.  “Magnus, I don’t care.  About any of it.” Magnus had told him about Peru the night Alec had gone over to ask him to teach Max again; his thievery consists of Magnus spelling himself wine and various other items without paying; Alec thinks most of it sounds fun, actually. And everything about fighting against the Circle?  That only fills him with pride.

There’s a long silence.  It’s comfortable, and Alec waits for Magnus to talk.

“I can’t help but feel she has a point.” His voice is meek.  Alec hadn’t thought Magnus could sound like that, unsure and diluted.  “I have a lot of enemies.”

Alec snorts. “So do I. We just came out of a war, we all do.”

“Some of the people I know—they’re heartless.  They wouldn’t think twice about hurting a child.”

“Well I’m not dating _them_.” Alec picks one of the roses out of the vase, running it between his index finger and thumb.

“Alexander…”

“No.” He sounds like he thinks Alec is being idealistic. Alec is being honest. “You’ve done so much for them.  You’re _good_ for them, Magnus.”

Alec gets the sense Magnus isn’t buying it.  He wracks his brain, trying to come up with something to say to change his mind.  Before he can think of anything useful, Magnus speaks again.

“I regret that she has infected my city with her presence and furthermore that she interrupted our date, but I must admit,” Alec can feel Magnus’s grin all the way down to his hips, “you’re _unbearably_ hot when you’re riled.”

The rose in his fingers stills.  The silence in the room seems to echo in his ears, his mind blunted for a pulse.

Then Alec says, “You don’t think I’m hot all the time?”

He gets the whole sentence out without a single stutter—at least, not in his words.  His heart is jerking wildly, overstimulated from their date and weeks and weeks and weeks of wanting him.

“ _Alexander_ ,” the grin in his voice goes down to Alec's toes this time, “are you flirting with me?”

“Trying to.”

Magnus hums.  The sound vibrates in Alec’s ear.  “If you had kissed me tonight, I don’t think I could’ve let you go home.”

Alec feels his heart thud one beat so hard he swears he can feel it knock against his ribcage.  He watches the petals of the rose in his hand. “I wanted to,” he says. “Kiss you, I mean.”

“That’s all?”

Alec breathes in, thinks of Magnus’s knee pressed up against his inner thigh.  Of his fingers slipping under his shirt, pressed into his stomach.  Of his lips, wonders again what they would’ve tasted like. The lace shirt he’d worn, what it would look like without anything under it.

“No.”

Magnus makes a delighted ‘mhm,’ his tone dropping. “You’ll have to enlighten me, someday.”

There are so many things Alec has thought about doing with Magnus he wouldn’t know where to start.

Alec’s entire body goes febrile, heat swelling through him like a growing cloud of smoke.  He swallows and then he asks, “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want?” Alec hardly recognizes his own voice.

“Oh, well.  I’ve always been partial to shower sex.”

Alec’s head grinds to a halt, all its gears locked.  He can’t think for a solid seven seconds.

Magnus laughs, and it’s low, somehow thunderous, comes from the very bottom of his lungs.

“Magnus.”

“Sorry, Alexander. I couldn’t resist.  You’re so fun to tease.”

Alec rolls his eyes, his cheeks going pink.

“Tonight was really nice, unwanted visitors aside.”

“Yeah. Thanks for…” Alec sets his head back against the wall behind him, tries to ignore the commotion in his sweatpants, “Everything.”

“Thank _you_ for wearing that shirt.” Magnus's voice falls low and playful again. “I know exactly what I’ll think about in my shower tonight.”

The line beeps, Magnus hanging up.

Alec stares blankly ahead of himself for a few beats before he breathes out, heavily, and curses.

He drops his phone and fumbles to undo his pants with one hand, the other coming down to rub at his clothed half-hard cock.  Alec groans, raising his hips to meet his palm. He sinks back against the headboard, his chest heaving.

His mind fills with the image of Magnus, naked, water running down his chest and hips and thighs in streams.  Pushing his warm, wet body up against the wall of the shower.  Rubbing their chests together. Sliding their dicks together, kissing around his jaw as he moans Alec’s full name.

Alec thinks about the shirt Magnus had worn tonight again, thinks of him wearing it, _only_ it, in the shower.  The way it would hang off him, cling to his abdomen and chest.  He thinks of Magnus’s hands on his bare skin, pressed warm and delicate, drawing lines in the water.  Thinks of them climbing up to rubs at his nipples, saying Alec’s name into his ear—

Alec comes without realizing he’s about to.  His nerves spike and his hips shake, rising off the mattress, sending him sliding down the headboard.  Semen spills out down his cock and onto his thighs.

He lies there for a long moment, breathing erratic and body tingling.

Eventually he gets up and cleans himself off, and looks at his reflection in the mirror.  There’s colour in his cheeks.  His eyes are wide, wild, and have an aliveness to them that’s unrecognizable.  

Alec smiles, rubbing a hand over his mouth in disbelief. Disbelief at the _cause_ of it.  Magnus is the reason for the shine in his eyes. He’d wound Alec up from the start of the evening right to the phone call, and hadn’t made him feel bad about being new to everything.

He’d called Alec gorgeous.  No one’s ever called him something like that.  Alec had jerked off to him.  And he’s never done so to a specific person, never so deliberately, never because he just couldn’t help himself.

Alec didn’t think he’d ever have someone like Magnus.  Not in his life, not between his job and his kids, not considering who he is as a person.

The guilt is still there, the future looming, but despite it all Alec is _happy_. He wants this to go somewhere.

Somewhere that is as close to ‘forever’ as they can get.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to talk to me here: [CLICK](http://chairmanmeow-and-church.tumblr.com/) :)


	18. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked [su-pectrum](http://su-pectrum.tumblr.com/) if I could use their arrow jewelry idea and they said yes!!!!
> 
> Thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) like always.

The gift Clary and Alec had ordered for Isabelle arrives the day before the wedding. They’d had it custom made in Argentina and altered by some prominent Faerie in Northern Russia whose name neither of them could pronounce. It had taken months for it to be ready.

With Max and Rafael left with Jace at the Institute, Alec and Clary drive to Brooklyn, towards the Downworlder districts, where the whip had been delivered for some final alterations.

A whip might be a weird wedding gift for most people, but it’s perfect for his sister.

Clary goes to the counter of the jeweler’s shop, talking about the specifics of the magic she wants added to the whip. Although the gift is from both of them, Alec hadn’t done much else other than suggesting a whip, suggesting that Clary create a rune made especially for it, and driving them around to get everything together. He didn’t want to interfere much, wants it to mostly be from Clary.

While she’s at the counter, Alec walks down a small aisle. He's normally more than content to lean against a wall and wait for Clary or whoever he's shopping with to be done -- but he knows what makes him do it. The aisle is glittery and dark, all the diamonds and fragments of them sparkling in the morning sun.

It reminds him of Magnus, though lately everything’s doing that.

He scans his eyes along rows and rows of small earrings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches, hairpins, and barrettes, all shining back at him like a million stars at night. Alec doesn’t think much of any specific piece he sees, more so encaptured by dazzling effect of all of it together. He thinks for a moment that sometimes things are like that. On their own they're not so interesting, but when they come together you can't look away. Can't go back to the way things were before. When they're together they’re greater than the sum of their parts and you're drawn to it until it seems like it's always been that way, until the collected image and ideas bleed into your bones and you're stuck seeing those two tropics twined together, all the lines blurred and dissolved away; but it's better without the thick lines, much better by far than the gnawing lurch of life that used to sit on every part of you.

Nothing specific catches his attention except the rolling picture of all the jewelry together - until his eyes drop onto two conch piercings.

They’re white, some stone he couldn’t name if his life depended on it.

And they’re carved in the shape of two tiny arrows.

Magnus wears conch earrings all the time. Small studs and rings and often coloured to match his outfits, hair, and makeup. Alec's never seen him wear long ones that would go through two parts of his ear, but that doesn’t take his eyes off the arrows.

“Thinking of getting your ears pierced?” Clary asks, coming up behind him. She peers around his side at the small earrings.

Without looking at her, he says, “No.”

She scrunches her eyebrows in a question at first, but they fall relaxed when it clicks in her head. “Oh.” Clary grins at him. “Alec, definitely get them.”

He’s not so sure. Isn’t it kind of obnoxious? Wanting Magnus to wear something that means so much to Alec? He might not like them, maybe he’d even hate them, find them tacky - what does Alec know about jewelry? And knowing Magnus, he’d wear them anyway, just to make him happy.

“Seriously, Alec.” Clary reaches over and lifts the box off the shelf. The white stone shines strange and unearthly in the light, even without it as they move into the shadow created by his body - just like Magnus. Alec's eyes follow them until Clary takes his wrist and places the earrings in his palm, smirking at him. “Get them.”

“But…”

She closes his fingers over the box.

“Isn't it sort of…” lame, stupid, selfish, rude - he can’t pick a word, trails off in his reproach. What if Magnus doesn’t get it?

“Tell him what archery means to you.” She grips at Alec’s closed hand. “You know, what you told me when we first met.” She smiles. “That’s why you want to get them for him, right?”

How does she read him like this? Just like his brothers and sister, like Clary has known him her whole life.

“Alec, trust me.” She bumps his shoulder. “He’s going to flip when you give them to him.”

Alec smiles at her, toothless but broad, feeble but certain despite his embarrassment. He turns away as she starts grinning, going towards the counter to pay. He’s not sure when he’ll give them to Magnus, when they’ll even see each other next, but the weight of them in his shirt pocket feels right.

 

* * *

 

When Alec gets home, there’s a box on the desk in his office. He picks up the letter attached to it, recognizing the writing immediately.

_Alexander,_

_Here is the suit for Rafael. If it does not fit him or if he wants something altered, please do not hesitate to call._

_Also, I demand a family photo tomorrow. You three it matching suits is not a sight I am willing to miss._

_-M._

Alec grins. He’d sent Magnus pictures of his suit and Max’s last week, so he could buy Rafael one that would match. Everyone on Izzy’s side of the family is wearing navy and gold, while everyone on Clary’s - which is only her mother and Luke, so Jace and Simon had been included - is wearing pink and gold, matching each brides’ dress respectively. It’s a mix of Shadowhunter and Faerie traditions.

Alec gathers the box in his arms and heads to Rafael’s bedroom, where Raf is going over runes with Izzy.

They look up at him when he walks in. “Hey,” Alec says, incapable of hiding the grin from his face, “Raf, this is from Magnus.”

He looks stunned as he takes the box. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Izzy grins at Alec, but chides him nonetheless, “Really?” She raises an eyebrow, “The night before the wedding?”

Rafael’s tiny fingers untie the bow neatly, unfolding the lid of the box as if it's fragile, and special to him.

He lifts the suit shirt out and stares at it silently. There’s an intricate pattern of gold along its shoulders and the top of its back, and over the pockets at its front. The white shirt under it has the same pattern except it’s not coloured, only printed through the white fabric. The collar is wide and open, making the shock of white pop. There’s a gold bowtie.

Rafael’s hands grip at the fabric, eyes traveling up and down the suit.

“Do you like it?” Alec asks, smiling.

Still staring at it, Rafael nods once. His absolute silence, Alec knows, is at the surface of a warmth he isn’t sure how to express.

Alec’s smile grows. “Do you want to call Magnus and say thank you?”

He does look at his dad then, eyes pleading for an explanation for the attention being given to him. Alec just keeps smiling.

Rafael says quietly, “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Rafael grips Dad's phone to his ear and picks at his jeans, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“That’s an ugly suit,” the Vampire says. She’s standing by his window, arms folded and staring down at him. She shows up often now, in his room, while he's eating dinner with everyone, while he's training, always talking in the background.

“Hello, Alexander.”

Rafael smiles at how Magnus says Dad’s name.

“It’s-” he kicks his legs against the bed, “it’s Rafael.”

“Oh!” Magnus sounds happy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Vampire rolls her eyes. “Pompous old witch.”

Rafael holds the phone closer to his ear, tries to drown her out. “Thank you - for the suit.”

“Do you like it?”

“I like it.”

“I want to make it clear, Rafael,” Magnus's voice sounds like Dad's when he's explaining something important, “I did not buy it for you for any other reason than I knew you needed one, and I’d hoped to make you happy.”

“Huh?”

He laughs like Dad does when Rafael does something he finds funny but Rafael doesn’t understand what. “It’s unconditional,” Magnus says.

The woman shakes her head, her eyes boring into him, unavoidable.

“Unconditional?” Rafael doesn’t know what the word means.

“It does not need to change however you feel about me.”

Rafael thinks he understand. Dad’s told him that sometimes people give things because they want to get something. And he’d asked Magnus if it was really just a family he wants, and so he’s reassuring Rafael now that there’s nothing he’s asking from him.

“Don’t be stupid, my little flower.” The woman tugs at Dad’s hair, but Dad can’t feel it. No one ever sees or hear or feels her except himself. “He’s after your father.”

Rafael turns his head away from her, but it’s like a fly that won’t leave him alone. Shutting his eyes, he tries again to tell someone.

“Magnus,” Rafael's chest already hurts, “I-” but it’s like glue slides down his throat, blocking the words and his breathing. “I need-”

The woman laughs as his voice dies.

“What is it?”

“You can’t tell him, little one. And do you know why?” Rafael looks over at her and Dad says his name but he hardly hears, “Because you know I’m right.” He can feel her words spread inside him, as if they become true, just by her saying them. “I can help you, you know.” Her teeth shine as they always do, bright like a moon made just for his bedroom. “I can make him go away.”

Fear strikes Rafael. Because at some point protecting Magnus had become as important as protecting Dad and Max. He clamps his mouth shut. He won’t let this woman anywhere near Magnus, no matter what she says or does to him.

“Rafael?” Magnus says.

“It’s nothing.” He stares at the suit in his lap. “Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the suit Magnus got him: [[click]](http://www.perfectmensblazers.com/shop-mens/outlet/men-clothing/images/Majestic-Royalty-Golden-Floral-Print-Navy-Blue-Fashhionable-blazer-5.png)


	19. Pragma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [bleedingoptimism](http://bleedingoptimism.tumblr.com/) for the Spanish, and thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) like always.
> 
> ;)

Alec shuffles Max and Rafael into the room the Seelies had prepared for his kids for the night. The Fae had set up three cabins, all with two floors, for Clary and Isabelle’s families.  Staying the night on Seelie territory is considered a great honour and while Alec doesn’t have much interest in it, having spent more than his fair share of time in the Realm, he knows it’s important.

His kids, of course, are bouncing with excitement as they enter their whitewood cabin.

There are three suits laid over his Alec’s arm.  It’s early evening – they’re holding the wedding at night for Simon and the other Vampires.  His sister is getting married in less than an hour.

Alec wonders if she’s nervous.  He’s nervous _for_ her.

After the boys explore every single corner of their room, Alec finally herds them together, and starts getting them dressed.

He tugs the sleeve of Max’s navy blue suit out, letting Max slip his arm through it.  Magnus had done so just over a week ago, helping him try on suits, and the presence of his absence yawns through Alec.  He catches Max’s eyes and sees it there, too.

Rafael is buttoning up his own suit, and smiles at himself in the mirror.  He turns to look at his back in the reflection and then he’s grinning.

Magnus is woven through them like a seem.  When had it happened? _How_ had it happened, without the two of them ever even making it through one single full date?  Alec thought he’d had control of this, months ago, but the gleam in Rafael’s eyes and the lonely longing in Max’s prove to him now that he’d never had any say in his kids falling in love with Magnus.  It was going to happen, even if Alec had shipped them both off to the other side of the world. It feels like it was _supposed_ to happen.

Alec doesn’t believe in any kind of fate, leans more towards making your own future, but he can’t shake the feeling that the three of them had always had a space open in their hearts, waiting for him.

“Magnus should be here,” Max says, matching Alec’s thoughts. He pouts at his dad with a foolish amount of gloom.

Alec sighs through his nose. “I know.”  He looks at Rafael, whose grin flees him as if swept away by the wind. “Next time something like this comes up, he’ll be here. I promise.”  Sitting on a low white stool, Alec finishes buttoning up Max’s suit, tugging on it as he speaks. “The only reason he’s not here,” he looks between both of his kids, making sure they’re listening and know he’s serious, “is because I’m working, and it might look bad. He’s not a secret, okay?”

They both nod at him.

“Good.” Alec grins, pulling out his phone, “Now get together, we’re sending him a picture.”

Rafael rolls his eyes like he can’t believe his dad and Max’s face beams, all but diving into his brother’s side.  He grabs him tight, still grinning, Rafael’s hands on his hips and eyeballs up towards the ceiling.

Alec takes the picture.  He sends it to Magnus, his kids running over to peer at his phone screen.

“Tell him we miss him!”

“Dad, that’s a terrible picture.”

Alec ignores his kids and just sends it.

A reply pops up in seconds.

_Alexander, I asked you for a family photo. Two out of three of you is not enough for me._

“What’s it say, Raf?” Max asks, too young to read all the words.

Rafael grins. “He wants a picture of Dad too.”

Alec tries to get his phone away in time, but his son is just as much a Shadowhunter as he is.  Raf snatches it and swipes to his camera, snapping three successive pictures of Alec.

Alec blames Jace.  He’s the only reason Rafael even knows how to use a phone.

“Raf, give it back.”  But Alec is half-way laughing, so Rafael doesn’t take him seriously.  He snaps two more pictures, both of which must look stupid as Alec reaches out to try and get his phone.

Grinning, he turns to Max. “Go sit on Dad’s lap.”

“Okay!”

Alec gives in, sighing as Max climbs over him.

Rafael snaps a picture of that and then makes his way over too, sitting on Alec’s other knee.  He gives his dad the phone back and says, “Take a selfie.”

“A what.”

Rafael sighs. “It’s a picture you take yourself, of yourself.”

“But there are three of us.”

“ _Dad_.” He groans, smacking himself on the forehead. “Just take a picture of us.”

Holding the phone as far out as he can Alec tries, but the beep of the picture being taken never comes.  They all sit there, grins turning awkward and then falling.

“Oh my god, Dad.” Rafael says after a while, “ _That’s_ a video.”

“Oh.” Alec looks at his son, then blinks into the phone’s camera.

Max giggles. “Hiiiii Magnus!!!”

“Sorry Dad doesn’t know how to use a phone.”

“He’s not good at this stuff,” Max shakes his head solemnly.

“You should see this place,” Rafael says, “The cabins all have outdoor bath houses, there’s real silk robes from Monae’s, and there’s even a _spa_.”

The Seelies had really gone all-out for their Shadowhunter guests.

“There aren’t any other Warlocks though.”

“But the Faeries seem nice.”

“We miss you!!!”

Looking down at his kids, a grin unfolds over Alec’s face. His heart feels like it’s swelling five times bigger than it should be.

“Dad said next time something like this happens, you’re coming.”

Alec’s knee-jerk reaction is to deny it.  It sounds like commitment, sounds weighted, sounds like he’s making an assumption.  But he’d meant it.  He _wants_ it.

So instead, he kisses Rafael’s hair and cards through Max’s, dispelling his fears.  “Say bye, you two.  We need to go check on aunt Izzy before the wedding starts.”

“Bye Magnus!!!!!” Max waves.

Rafael does too, and though his is much more relaxed, it is no less open. “See you.”

Alec clicks the video off.

“Send it, Dad,” Rafael says.

Alec does, along with every picture they’d taken.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is stood in a white room with violet accents that are sweet in their simplicity, his back pressed into a piano, when his phone buzzes about fifteen times in a row.

He pulls it out of his pocket, still buzzing, and unlocks it.

His smile stretches until his neck strains.  He looks at picture after picture, laughing at the frown on Alexander’s face and his outstretched hand. Evidently Rafael had stolen his phone.

When Magnus comes to the video, his smile disappears in the wonderment that takes him up next.  The three of them staring at him, smiles turning uncomfortable, making Magnus stare back just as confused.

Then Rafael chides his dad, and Magnus breaks into another grin. And when Alec kisses Rafael's head and plays with Max’s hair and doesn’t deny that he wants Magnus around the next time, that there will _be_ a next time, Magnus has to take a seat on the piano’s bench. He covers his still-grinning mouth and feels water gather over the surface of his eyes that haven’t seen something so moving in the entire time he’s been alive.

He’s never been treated like this, like he’s part of some whole. He’s never felt so responsible for two people. He’s never felt so connected to one person.

He replays the video and when Alec kisses Rafael’s hair and runs a hand through Max’s, somehow Magnus knows it comes from both of them.

He replays the video again.

Five times.     

 

* * *

 

Once he’s sure all three of them are dressed, Alec takes his sons to the room Izzy is getting ready in.

He knocks on the door. “Izzy?”

“Alec?”

“It’s us aunt Izzy!” Max calls.

“Come on in,” she says.

Alec pushes the door open.

His sister’s dress is sleek, navy on the bottom and covered in gold along her chest and waist, shaped in a looped, falling pattern Alec doesn’t know the name for.  There are something like leafy tree branches wrapped around it.  The dress is spectacular, but it hardly catches his eye.

Isabelle is crying.

“Aunt Izzy!” Max gasps, scurrying to her knees.

She’s sat on a white stool, hair down in heavy half-curls and tears bulging down her cheeks.

“Hey Maxie,” she says, sniffing.

“What’s _wrong_?”

“Oh mijo,” Isabelle lifts him up, hugging his blue body to her chest.  Alec walks towards her and, dragging the other stool over, sits down next to her, “I’m a little scared.”

Max doesn’t say anything.

Rafael looks at her.  “Por qué?”

Alec takes her hand, setting both of theirs on his knee.

Izzy looks at Rafael and reaches her other hand out, pulling him over when he takes it. “A veces amar mucho a alguien, da miedo.”

Alec looks over at her.  Her makeup isn’t running, likely courtesy of whichever Faerie had done it.  As much crap as they’ve put Alec through over the treaty, they have been really generous about helping with this wedding.

“Izzy…”

She looks at Alec, laughs through her dampening cheeks. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

“No,” he says, drumming his fingers along the back of her hand.  He doesn’t.  Her and Clary had fallen in love in the middle of a war, in the middle of their mother’s disgust when they were younger and it hurt more. They’re crazy about each other, besides all that.  Alec has seen them willingly throw out their life for the other, which had made him angry at both of them at the time, but now the memory settles comfortably in his head.  He knows his sister isn’t making a mistake.

She knows it too.  She smiles at him, wipes her own eyes, and grips his hand tighter. “Thanks, big brother.”

He gives her a kiss on the head, followed by Max and then Rafael, who kiss her on her cheeks.

Izzy’s laughing by the end of it.

But then her expression flips, sudden remembrance taking over. “Oh!” Her shoulders jump. “Alec. I left um- I left my nail polish in the indoor venue.  Can you go get it for me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your nail polish.”

“Yes.”

“You need your nail polish?  Right now?”

She frowns at him. “Just go get it.  Leave Max and Raf here, Jace will be by in a second and he can take them.”

Alec looks at her.

“ _Go_.” She says, making shooing motions with her hands. “The wedding starts in fifteen minutes, so hurry.”

After giving her one more weird look, Alec heads out the door and down the hall.  The indoor venue is just across from the procession, where Izzy and Clary will wed, so it doesn’t take him long to get there.  Alec pushes the double glass doors open and steps inside.  The room is large, lots of space for dancing even with the tables set up around it.  It’s white with violet accents.

He walks towards the piano, and freezes as the outline of a more-than-familiar frame fills his eyes.

He’s wearing a vintage dark red three-piece suit printed over with tiny roses, the shirt under it black.  Alec doesn’t know much--anything--about vintage formal wear but Magnus looks striking and for a long moment Alec forgets where he is.

He must make a sound of some kind, because Magnus turns his head to look.  His dark eyes widen when they come to rest on Alec.

“Magnus–” Alec takes whatever steps are left between them, standing close. “What…” He moves to put his hands on him but drops them lamely at his sides. “How are…”

Magnus clears his throat, breaking the eye-contact. “Isabelle insisted that I attend as her guest, rather than yours,” he says. He sends Alec an even look. “I agreed to surprise you only if I could give you the opportunity to tell me to leave.”

The suit he’s wearing curves along his waist and hips, hugs his chest, and Alec wonders, not for the first time, what he looks like out of it.

“Should I go?”

“Huh?” Alec flicks his eyes back up. “Where? Why?”

Magnus laughs, a little breathless. “Due to your concerns regarding the Seelie Queen.” He sets a hand on Alec’s wrist, looking up at him. His eyelids are made up in something light, contrasting the dark suit. “No one has seen me yet.  I _will_ leave, if you want me to.”

His words catch up to Alec all at once.  Izzy would do something like this.  She’s always telling Alec he’s too worried about his image.  But it’s not just his image at stake—if the Seelies don’t sign this treaty, then no other Downworlders will.  And if they don’t make some sort of pact among themselves, it’ll be all too easy for the prejudices of his parents’ generation to continue, for more war to follow.  Alec wants to change things.

Magnus being here—Or really, Alec disrespecting the Seelie Queen by having a second date—could ruin that.  Especially if she really does want it to seem like her and Alec are an item.

“Alexander,” fingers press into his arm, “I mean it, I’ll-”

“Stay,” Alec says, almost sighs it as it escapes him without permission.  He doesn’t care why or how Magnus is here.  He doesn’t care about the politics, the rumours, his guilt.  He slips a hand over his waist, beneath the open jacket of his three-piece suit.

Under his hand, he can feel Magnus’s stomach tighten.

“Are you sure?”

Alec palms at his side, at all the muscles he can get to. “I don’t know.”

Magnus hums, smiling. “Impossible to please.”

“I’m not,” Alec says in a near-whisper. His grin is small. 

“Alec?” Jace's voice rings out across the empty room. His footsteps come next.

Loudly in his head, Alec groans.  Some of it must makes itself audible because Magnus laughs.

Alec grips at Magnus’s shirt. Their hips are only inches apart.  “Fuck,” he breathes.

Magnus watches Alexander breathe in, sees his chest rise and fall in a drawn out and tense intake of air. Understands the sentiment entirely.

As the footfalls get nearer, Alec takes a step back. But he doesn’t let go. He shuts his eyes.

“Ale— Oh.”  Jace freezes when his eyes find them, stood close together, hands on each other. “Shit.”

Alec opens his eyes, looking down at Magnus who is staring dazed back up at him.  He could do it.  Jace is here but Alec’s sure he’ll forget about him fast enough.

“Dude- I’m sorry,” Jace sounds it, his lips turned down, “But we gotta go.  The wedding is starting.”

Alec grips harder at Magnus’s waist.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, setting a hand on his chest.  “Go.”

“You’re staying.”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.” Alec’s body is screaming, reeling, pleading with him to put more of himself on Magnus.  His hands, his hips, his anything.

It’s Magnus who moves. “Alright then,” he says, taking a small step back. It’s as if he’s trying to take off his own skin—it aches, is nearly impossible to do.  Alexander’s long fingers slip from his side as he moves.  Magnus begins straightening Alec’s jacket, just to have his hands on him once more.  “You’d better go.”

Alec grabs at his waist again.

Magnus laughs. “Really, Alexander.”

“This—” Alec can’t look away from his mouth, at the sheen of his pink gloss, can’t help fingers that tug up on the shirt under them, can’t think through the fog that swallows him whenever they’re together, “This is…”

Magnus says, “I understand,” and he smoothes the front of Alec’s navy blue suit down, flattening his hands over his broad chest, “But your little sister is getting married. We have to go.”

“So go then.” Alec’s voice is broken.

Magnus makes an honest attempt not to run his hands down the front of Alexander’s suit again, but fails.  The fingers on his side flex as Magnus does so. A sound he’s sure only they can hear comes from Alexander’s throat.

“Alec, you know I am the _last_ person who would ever get in the way of you finally getting laid,” Jace says, “but if we’re late to Izzy’s wedding, she’s not going to kill us, she’s going to _cry_.  And we both know which of those things is worse.”

“Your interrupting brother is right, Alec.” Jace crosses his arms, curling a lip up at Magnus, though it’s more or less in good humour.  They seem to have a sort of low-key antagonism Alec doesn’t know the source of. “Today is about your dear sister and her biscuit. We need to go.”

He pushes himself away from Alec, finally, nodding at Jace as he walks by.  Jace nods back.

Alec frowns at his brother, and Jace says he's sorry again as they exit the venue.  Alec sighs at him, letting it go.  He and Magnus are right. Today is about Izzy and Clary.

 

* * *

 

When Alec goes back outside, the sun is nearly completely set.  The eternal summer sky of the Seelie Realm is half full of stars, lengthy wisps of clouds overhead hardly hindering the view at all.

Alec steps onto the stage of the wedding procession, taking his places next to the Seelie Queen, his sons in front of him, closest to where Izzy will be.

Max loses it when he sees Magnus take a seat in the audience.  He turns to look at Alec, starry-eyed and mouth dropped, like he’s witnessing the Earthly descent of some god.  “Dad!”  He points.  “Magnus _is_ here!”

“What?” Rafael perks up, looking to where his brother is pointing.

Max jumps, an arm up and waving frantically, like he thinks Magnus might somehow fail to notice him. “Magnus!!!!”

“ _Max_ ,” Alec whispers, glaring at him.

He pouts up at his dad. “What?”

The others in the audience, Shadowhunters, Werewolves, Vampires and Seelies alike, laugh quietly at the outburst.

Magnus just grins and waves back at both of Alec’s sons, eyes going to Alec and shifting, turning an octave lower like his voice does.

“The rumours are true, then,” the Seelie Queen says beside Alec, bringing him out of the hold of Magnus’s gaze, “The head of the New York Shadowhunters is seeing the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”  She turns to face him completely, slipping a yellow boutonniere in his suit pocket, smiling. “Is he the reason you did not meet me at the entrance?”

“Sorry,” Alec says.

Aralola fixes his hair, smoothing it across his forehead. “Do not be, Alec Lightwood.  You have—”

The music grows louder, Fairfolk playing instruments Alec has seen around the Court, indicating the brides are about to walk the aisle. Everyone in the audience and on the stages falls silent.

Clary walks down first, and Simon dissolve into tears instantly.  She laughs at him and goes over to hug him, her mother, and Luke.

Isabelle comes soon after.  She winks at Alec and grins at Magnus when she’s up on the stage. Alec sighs and smiles back at her.

They make a pretty picture, half the stage dressed in navy and gold, the other half in light pink and gold, Clary and Isabelle at the center of all their family and friends.

Jace starts crying when they draw the runes on each other, Simon snickering at him, and Alec makes it all the way until they kiss before tears start to gather under his eyes too.  

He needs to look away to hold himself together.  Alec flips his gaze into the audience, expecting to see Magnus watching Izzy and Clary.  And he probably had been.  But when Alec turns to look, Magnus is staring straight at him.

An ocean spreads under his feet and swallows him whole.  Jace goes up to stand with the newly wedded brides to deliver his speech, and Alec hears exactly none of it.  Magnus’s lips fill out into a cascading grin, lighting every inch of Alec’s body, from the root of his heart to the dendrites of each nerve, from his fingertips to the bottom of his feet.  The slowly sinking sun and the moon fill the lines on Magnus’s face, make the glitter shine and dive down into the depths of his cat eyes, reflecting all the flecks of yellow, even from here.

He’s _beautiful_.

The words press into his head, compressing to a thought and then unfolding through Alec, escaping him as he breathes out, shaking.

“Dad,” Rafael says, pulling at his sleeve, “It’s your turn.”

Alec almost trips on his way to his sister, and although his speech is short, it takes him longer to get through it than any of times he’d practiced.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s kids hop off the stage and make for Magnus as soon as the procession is over, and Alec doesn’t stop them.  It’s one thing for him to hold himself back for the sake of politics and work, but he’ll never do it to his kids, not now.  He’d no more keep them from Magnus than Izzy or Jace.

Nighttime hanging over their heads, Alec follows the Queen to their table, sitting down at his designated seat beside her and her guard.

The next few hours are spent meeting and greeting Faerie officials, talking about the treaty, and forcing a smile on his face every time his mother flashes her approving eyes at him.

Alec does his best to be attentive, but Magnus is at a table on the other side of the open grass area for dancing, sitting with Clary, Isabelle, Jace, Simon, Luke, Jocelyn, and Max and Raf.

While Alec is talking to the Queen’s first guard Meliorn, Magnus is dancing with Clary. When he talks with a delegate from her inner court, Magnus is being passed over to Isabelle, who he kisses on the cheek.  When Alec is asked about his parents’ history with the Circle, a question that definitely needs his full attention, Max is pulling Magnus onto the grass and reaching his little arms up, just barely able to grasp his hands; so Magnus laughs and Alec can hear it crisp and clear cutting through the night air and he lifts Max into his arms and spins them around the grass, both of them barefoot. A purple light flashes as Max sparks with joy he can’t keep in and—

“Lightwood?” Some delegate or official or someone of some importance he’s forgotten about says.  Magnus casts a spell with a wave of his hand that send a ring of bubbles floating in front of them, and Max giggles loud enough for Alec to hear it as he reaches out from Magnus’s arms to pop them. “Lightwood.”

The Queen nudges him with her foot.

Alec makes a soft squeak at the back of his throat and then his eyes snap to the Faeries at his table, confused for a moment.

Aralola smiles at him, though there is severity in her expression.  “My advisors were just inquiring about your initial views on Downworlders, before Valentine.”

Looking over the shoulders of the people sat in front of him, Alec can see Magnus’s smile and nearly loses himself again.

But he fists his hands where they’re sat on his knees, bringing his attention back to the table.  He needs to focus.

Alec’s initial views of Downworlders, when he was younger and hadn’t known any better, were too close to his mother’s for comfort.  He is as candid as possible as he explains it to the Faeries.

Hours later, when dinner and desert has been served and eaten and Alec has spoken woth more Fae Court members than he could ever remember, Aralola turns to face him.

“Go, Shadowhunter,” she says, smiling and tipping her head towards the table his kids and family and friends are still at, though most of them are dancing in the grass. “Be with your family.”

He looks around. “But-” His head spins. “Don’t you want- Don’t we need to greet more of your people?”

She lowers her brows. “You’ve sat in my Court for months.  Your sister has allowed me to take part in her wedding.  You allowed _it_ to take place in Seelie territory.  You’ve taken me here as your date and you’ve sat by my side all night, speaking with my people.”  She smiles at him. “My Seelies will sign your treaty at our next meeting, Alec Lightwood.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  Now,” she regards him fondly, “go be with your loved ones.”

He looks at her, uncertainty drawn on his face. “Is it okay for them to see me with- with-” he gazes into her white eyes, “It’s just… my sister invited Magnus, I wasn’t going to, but he’s here and...”

She quirks a brow at him. “What would I care if you’re here with him?”

“But weren't you- at the start, were you trying to… to like… It’s just, there were rumours you were trying to-” he feels his cheeks flame, feels so stupid asking but he can’t stand not knowing, “court me?” He says finally, voice small.  “And so I thought either it would be rude to come with him, or you wanted it to look like you and are I… like that,” he finishes, sagging.

“What?” She laughs at him, nearly gawking.    
  
Alec hides his face in his hands, groaning inwardly and leaning over the table. "I don't know."  
  
“I do want my people to believe we are well acquainted, but lovers?" She snorts softly. "God no.”

Alec leans back in his chair, way beyond embarrassed but too curious to stop himself now.  “What about- with your son?”

“Quite randomly one day you told me you only dated men.” She huffs a small laugh.  “I thought you were expressing interest in my son.”

Alec is an idiot.

“Whoever told you of such rumours, Alec Lightwood, they were lying.” She tilts her head and her smile is reaching.  “The only rumours that have been flying around the Downworld about you concern Magnus Bane and your illicit interest in him.  Or did you suppose no one at his school would notice?”

Alec goes redder.

“It is a good thing, you realize.  Seelies and Warlocks have fairly decent relations.” Alec doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stares in stunned silence out across the meadow and into the Fairfolk’s forest.  “Shadowhunter,  _go_.  Do not let me monopolize any more of your time.”

“Thank you,” he says, still not moving. “I’m sorry.”

She smiles at him, and stands up.  Feeling obligated Alec follows suit.

“Do not be.  We will sign your treaty,” she says, setting a hand on his upper arm, “So please enjoy the rest of your night, Alec Lightwood.”

And she’s gone, walking away towards her forest.

Feeling deft, Alec walks over to the table his family and friends are sat at.  As he makes his way over, he can see Magnus and Max out in the grass together.  They’re dancing again, Max’s little blue hands gripping at Magnus’s fingers and he’s chattering like birds a dawn.

Alec nearly collapses into the chair next to Clary and Rafael.  Simon, Izzy, and Jace are off getting drinks.

“Hey,” Clary says, smiling, glowing, “Finally done with work?”

Alec hears Magnus laugh at something Max says, watches them wrapped up in each other.  Clary’s eyes travel to where he’s looking.

“Oh.” She grins at him knowingly. “Yeah, that’s cute.” She bumps his shoulder. “Why don’t you go over?”

Alec can barely speak, let alone walk.

“Alec…”

“I’m good,” he says.

Clary just laughs at him, leaning over to peer at Rafael with a smirk. “Your dad’s really funny, huh?”

Rafael snorts.

Alec watches Magnus dancing with Max.  Eventually he lifts Max up like he had before, holding him and still dancing, spinning in a few slow circles that leave Max grinning.  Magnus leans in and kisses his forehead.  He keeps Max just as close as Alec ever has. Warmth curls into his chest: at Max’s happy expression, at Magnus’s loving one, at the memory of Max wanting to call him ‘Papa.’  More and more it feels like Magnus has always been here. More and more, Alec is slipping, losing control of himself.

“Oh my gosh, Alec,” Clary says, eyes searching him, “Your _face_.”

“Be quiet,” he says, negating the harsher phrase for Rafael’s sake.

“You’re a lot happier than when we first met but I have _never_ seen you smile like that.”

“Clary,” Alec says, measured, “Be. Quiet.”

“No way.” She grins at him.

Magnus spots Alexander seated with Clary and Rafael, watching him.  He grins over at Alec and says to Max, “Your dad’s here.”

Max jumps in his arms, turning his head sharply.  He grins and waves at Alec. “Dad!!”

“Should we go over?”

“Yeah!”

Magnus carries Max back to their table, smiling at Alexander as he sets Max on his feet.

“The Queen set you free?”

Alec nods, words buried at the pit of his stomach.

Magnus rakes his eyes up and down the gold shirt under the long and wide open V of Alec’s navy blue suit.

“If I’m allowed to ask you now,” Magnus says, holding a hand down towards him, “Would you like to dance?”  His heart pounds despite the fact that he’s danced with nearly every Lightwood family member and friend present.

Alec freezes.  He looks at the hand, all the rings and recalls effortlessly how it feels to have them pressing into his skin.  Alec can’t dance, but that isn’t the problem, and there are people everywhere, but he doesn’t care about that either.

It’s just _Magnus_ that has his words jumbled, trapped inside him.

The hand starts to falter and so does his expression and Alec is just opening his mouth to say something, anything at all that will tell Magnus his silence is not about shame but only disbelief that he’s feeling like this – like he’s dropping into some hole he’s never going to be able to get himself out of—

When a small, dark hand lands in Magnus’s.

Rafael slides out of his seat, gripping his hand, and looks at his shoes with a red face.

“I would,” he says.

After overcoming his initial surprise, Magnus grins.  He looks at Alec, whose own surprised expression dissolves into a warm smile.

“You were too slow, Alexander,” Magnus says, voice lying low over Alec’s ears.

He matches it, staring up at Magnus from his seat. “I’ll try to be quicker next time.”

Magnus holds his eyes for a moment.  Alec’s throat goes tight.

Then he wraps his hand around Rafael’s, looking over at him with all the diligence and respect some would afford a prince: “Shall we, little angel?”

Rafael’s face goes burgundy at the nickname and the attention, but he rolls his eyes, trying to look like he doesn’t care with the failed nonchalance of a child.  Magnus smiles as he’s tugged out to the grass.

“I’m not little, you know.”

“You certainly are,” Magnus says, grin broadening unintentionally as he’s pulled along, “You hardly come up to my ankles.”

“ _That’s_ not even true.” He stops walking when they’re out on the field.  Then Rafael just stands there, looking deflated and uncertain.

Magnus grins and takes both of Rafael’s hands, spinning him around until they’re facing each other.  Alec’s son looks at him sardonically, but there is a sheepishness underneath it.

Magnus gives him a few pointers, spoken quietly so it’s as if he’s said nothing at all, and Rafael starts moving them.  His face just begins to go back to brown and his inhibitions start to leave him –

When he trips, falling right onto his bottom.

From the table, Alec goes rigid. Rafael’s pride and perfectionism are bound to send him away from Magnus, retreating to his seat next to Alec.  Alec doesn't want that.  He wants his older son to realize that mistakes are just a part of life, that he’s allowed to make them.

Still holding Rafael’s hands even as he’s sat in the grass, Magnus’s own worries spike, for much the same reason.

But Rafael just stands up, stutters an apology, and finds his footing again.  He grips at Magnus’s hands harder.  He’s holding onto his palms as far as his smaller fingers can reach.  With a nervous tilt in the words, Rafael says, “I’m fine.”  It’s too quick, as if he wants the mistake forgotten as fast as possible.

Magnus smiles down at him. “Of course you are,” he says, nodding once.

Alec can’t hear them but his stomach flips at the sight, just like it had when he’d watched Magnus put Max to bed, and when Magnus had said he’d die for his kids.

“Are you gonna go over there or what?” Clary asks.

He is, actually.

Alec stands up, lifts Max into his arms, and starts to walk over to where Magnus and Rafael are dancing.

Before he’s all the way to them, however, his mother spots him from the outside of the indoor venue.  She’s chatting with a small group of Shadowhunters.  When her eyes lock onto Alec, though, she marches over.

There’s a glass of red wine gripped like a stress ball in her hand.

“Alec.”

“Hi, mother.”

“Hi grandma,” Max says, the only one of the three smiling.

Maryse bristles, eyes snapping towards Alec.  “Why is that _Warlock_ dancing with my grandson.”

He frowns.  Max doesn’t need to hear this, hear his grandmother say ‘Warlock’ like it’s a slur.  He sets his son on his feet, kneeling down with him. “Max, go over with Magnus, okay?”

Max looks up at his grandmother, then back at Alec.

“I’ll be right there,” Alec says.

Max nods and hurries off.

Alec stands up and turns back to his mother. “That ‘Warlock’ is Magnus.”

“I know who he is. Why is he _here_?”

“He’s my date.” Alec meets her gaze. “I’m dating him,” he clarifies.

Maryse’s eyes blare open.  Their inferno-stare doesn’t phase him much anymore, despite the memories and pressure it brings up from the foothills of his mind.

“Alec,” she starts, looking at him sternly, “I’ve known that Warlock for almost as many years as you’ve been alive, and I can tell you, Magnus Bane is not good for your children.”   

“Why?” Alec folds his arms. “Because he fought against you when you were in the Circle?”

“No,” she hardens her gaze, “Because he’s a-”

“If you say Downworlder-”

“You can’t _trust_ him, Alec. You don’t know everything he’s done.  All the people he knows who would do anything to get to him.”

Alec sighs. “It’s the same for me.  The Lightwood name—”

“—has honour attached to it. _Magnus Bane’s_ does not.”

Alec folds his arms. “Not with Shadowhunters, maybe,” though he’s fairly sure as the inventor of the portal Shadowhunters ought to be praising Magnus’s name, “But in the Downworld-”

“What does the Downworld matter? Your kids-”

“ _Max_ is a _Downworlder_ , mother, whether you like it or not.”

“But he was a raised a—”

“A Shadowhunter,” Alec says, “and that was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my whole _life_.”  Alec drops his arms, running a hand through his hair. “Besides,” he forces his voice to stay even, not wanting this to turn into a real fight, not at his sister’s wedding, “Our worlds are coming together.  They have been, ever since Valentine’s defeat.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to date one, Alec.” Her eyes flick over to Magnus, who is trying to teach both Max and Rafael some dance Alec can’t recognize.  “When did this start?”  His eyes jump back to his mother.  “Are you in love with it?”

“ _It_?”

This isn’t how Alec wanted the question to come up, not from his mother, not born of her prejudices and fear.  Did she say ‘it’ because Magnus is a Downworlder, because he’s a guy, or both?

“His name is Magnus, and he’s a person, mom.”

“He’s part demon!”  Her voice hikes up. Her nostrils flare as she composes herself.  Maryse takes a drink of her wine.  “You don’t know what he’s capable of.  I’ve seen him in a fight.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Alec says, holding his hands out in defeat and disbelief.  “I’m going to dance with my kids,” he looks into his mother’s eyes, not viciously, only with the clarity of intent, “ _and_ Magnus.”

“You’re making a mistake, Alec.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” he says as he passes her, “As long as you keep your comments to yourself.  Magnus is one thing, but I won’t let Max hear his grandmother talk about him like that.”

She doesn't reply, and he doesn’t look back.  Alec fixes his eyes on his kids and by the time he reaches them and Magnus, all the tension from his mother is gone.

“Dad,” Rafael says when he spots Alec, hands still holding onto Magnus’s.

Magnus turns to look at him, not letting go of Raf.  He smiles and Alec reflects it without trying.

“Hello, Alexander.”

“Hey,” Alec says, feeling awkward already.  He’d just stood up to his mother — a formidable feat for anyone who knows her — and yet Magnus saying his name, full and overextended in a tune that holds every syllable as if it were somehow important, still makes Alec nervous.

“Where’s grandma?” Max asks him.

Alec bends down and lifts him up. “She’s busy, Max,” he says, holding him against his hip.

“Oh.” He peers over at his dad for a second, and then like the flash of a camera his face shifts into excitement.  “Did you come to dance?!”

“Even if he didn’t, blueberry,” Magnus says, looking at Alec, “we’re not giving him a choice.”

Alec laughs.

They dance together for a long while. It could’ve been an hour or three for all Alec cares; he’s too happy to keep track.

Though for Alec ‘dancing’ consists more of holding Max and spinning around in a way he hopes matches the rhythm, rather than any actual dancing. He goes hot every time Magnus looks at him.  Finds that focusing on Max’s slowly-going-sleepy grinning face doesn’t let him forget that there are two radiant cat’s eyes on him, flashing in the moonlight.

Magnus laughs at him when Alec starts spinning him and Max in fast circles.

He puts Max on his feet and he immediately topples over, laughing half face-down in the grass.

Alec bends down to pick him up, Max still bursting with giggles.  “Dad- _Dad—_ ” He laughs more, the sound filling Alec’s whole head.  He steps over until he’s standing right next to Magnus and Rafael, somehow needing the proximity.

“Blueberry, if you’re not careful you know, you’ll pop.”

“I will n-” giggles roll through him, sounding like never-ending hiccups, “n- _not_ , Magnus!”

Alec grins and flips Max backwards, dipping him upside down between himself, Magnus, and Rafael.  Max laughs harder. “He’s right Max, it’s a Warlock thing,” Alec says.

“No-” His now-untucked dress shirt falls into his face, causing more giggles, “No it isn’t!”

Rafael raises his eyebrows ominously. “It’s true, Max.”

“ _Raaaaf!!!_ ” He tries to swat at his brother, but his hands fall limply down towards the ground as another fit of giggles bubbles out of his mouth. “Not you- you _too_.”

Alec heaves Max back upright in a fast swoop, more high and fluttery giggles tumbling from him.  His hair flies back as he’s swung up and into Alec’s arms, and it flops over his eyes when he comes to a stop.

Alec brushes it out of his face, grinning.  “Okay, you won’t pop.”

Max fists the front of Alec’s navy suit.  Alec feels a wave of magic roll through him.  It’s light, easy, reminds him of birds flying and early mornings, something lifted about it.

He looks over at Magnus and wonders what his feels like.

“I know Dad,” Max says, leftover laughter threatening to unleash a flood of it. Alec looks back at his son. “You– You think I don’t know these things but I do.”

“I’m sure, Max.”

Max laughs softly, and then he sighs, lying his head on Alec’s shoulder. “Today was the best day,” he says.

Alec hums, rocking him. “Why’s that?”

His reply is mumbled and unintelligible.

Magnus is smiling at Max but looks at Alec when he speaks. “Should we put him to bed?”

How can Magnus be asking him that? How can he be using the collective pronoun? How can he be at his little sister’s wedding, spending time with his family and friends, _dancing with his kids_ — How can he be so involved in their lives?

All before a kiss.

How hasn’t he kissed Magnus yet?

“You should both go to bed,” Alec says, looking at Rafael.

“But _Dad—_ ” Rafael pouts, fingers gripping at Magnus’s palms.

“No buts.” Alec reaches a hand down, meaning for Rafael to take it. “Come on.  It’s late.”

He turns and pouts up a Magnus.

“Your father’s right, Rafael. It’s nearly midnight.”

Rafael looks upon the treachery before him with a dark scowl.  One that incidentally leads both Alec and Magnus to the conclusion that it is  _definitely_ bedtime.

The four of them go back to the table.  Clary, Isabelle, Jace, and Simon are there.

“On your way to bed?” Izzy asks. “The cabins are really nice.” She grins at them. “I made sure you had a double, big brother.”

Alec gives his sister a pointed 'Why are you like this?' stare. “We’re just taking Max and Raf in,” he says.

Jace looks between him and Magnus. “I’ll take them, Alec.” He stands up from his seat beside Simon, who stands as well.

Alec raises his brow at his brother. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Jace says, “C’mon Raf.” Rafael walks over to his uncle, still scowling over the dual-enforced bedtime.  Jace holds his arms out, taking the sleeping Max from Alec. “Have a good night, guys,” Jace says, carting the kids away to their cabin.

Clary and Isabelle smile up at Alec from their seats.

“I’m going to have to buy your brother a bottle of wine,” Magnus says from behind him, watching Jace and Simon walk off.

“He doesn’t drink wine,” is Alec’s inane reply. Izzy gives him A Look, then gestures with her eyes towards Magnus.

Alec ignores her.

Magnus steps up beside him. He sets their shoulders together. Though he doesn’t use any magic, Alec feels a spark run through his arm to his feet.

“How about that dance you owe me?” Magnus asks.

Alec’s pulse spikes up.  Clary and Izzy grin at him.  While most people have gone home by now, there are still guests around.  People are going to see them.

But that still isn’t what has Alec frozen. People already know and he’s glad for it.

Alec swallows, and takes Magnus’s hand.  “Yeah,” he says, eyes skirting up and down his face.  His eyeliner is white and faint, glitter fanning out across his temples and falling sparser under his eyes.  His lips are still glossed.

Alec pulls him out onto the grass.  But he walks past the Faeries playing music, past the dining tables, past the wedding stage, until they’re on the other side of a looming tree.  Its flowers are red and long hanging Faerie lights droop down over the two of them.

Alec takes both of Magnus’s hands, turning to face him.

Looking around at the tree, the stars, the moonlight, Magnus smirks. “If this is your attempt at romancing me, Alexander,” he runs his fingers between Alec’s, “it’s working.”

Alec feels the muscles on his neck tighten. “I don’t know how to dance,” he says. It’s not exactly part of a Shadowhunter’s training.

“No worries, darling.”  Magnus waves a hand airily. “But one thing, first.”  With dexterous fingers he takes the boutonniere Aralola had given Alec from the front of Alec’s suit pocket and tosses it onto the grass, somewhere behind them and forgotten. He motions melodically with his fingers, and a rose appears in its place.

Alec snorts softly, smiling fully.

Magnus takes one of Alec’s hands and slips it behind his suit jacket, setting it on his lower back.  Magnus’s hand finds his shoulder. Their free hands are still held together.  “You’re going to follow my feet, okay?”

Alec nods.

Magnus steps forwards, “Take a step back with your right foot,” Alec does. “Then we go sideways,” Alec tries to go the wrong sideways and loses his balance a little. Magnus holds him at his shoulder, keeping him up. Alec steps sideways in the right direction. “And then I step back with my right, you forward with your left—” Alec manages this without mistake, “—And that’s it.” Magnus grins. “You have successfully waltzed.”

“Seems easy enough,” Alec says, eyes lost in his smile.

Magnus guides them into the dance. Alexander is a little awkward at it. On occasion his feet lag behind the beat, he misses a step here or there, he trods on Magnus once or twice or six times, but Magnus could not possibly care.  Alec’s long fingers press into his back.  His whole arm is wrapped around Magnus’s torso.

“How did your evening with the Faeries go?” Magnus asks as they sway together.

He smiles as Alexander looks up from their feet. His expression is dazed for a moment, but a grin breaks out over it. “They’re…” Up this close Magnus can see all the different colours in his hazel eyes, the yellows, greens, and browns.  It’s as if a whole universe is in them. “They’re going to sign the treaty at the next meeting.”

Magnus beams. “It’s about time.”

“You know,” Alec looks at him wryly, “The Queen said something really interesting to me tonight.”

“What’s that?”

Alexander squints at him then.  While it’s never a sign of true discontent, Magnus knows by now nothing wholesome comes from that look.  “She said there were never any rumours about her wanting to court me.”

“Oh?” Magnus looks away.

Alexander draws him back in somehow, though all he does is speak. “Why’d you lie, Magnus?” He asks, not sounding mad or upset, just curious and a little amused.

“In my defense, there were _some_ rumours after she requested to be your date for this evening,” he says.  Alec just stares at him with indignation. Magnus sighs, deflating. “I lied to give myself an opportunity to find out if you were interested. It was very hard to tell in the beginning if you were or not.”

“Interested?” Alec watches Magnus’s face, watches his honey-coloured skin turn slightly pink, wonders how someone like Magnus could ever be embarrassed over someone like Alec.

“In me, in men in general…”

Alexander presses the tips of his fingers into his back.  Magnus’s feet nearly lose their place. “I’m interested,” he says, grin wide and blinding and taking Magnus’s breath away.

“In me or in men in general?”

Alexander huffs out a laugh. His eyes skirt away for a moment but land back on Magnus. “Both, I guess.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Magnus says, smiling. His cheeks are still warm.

Alec doesn’t say anything after that.  He watches Magnus, staring deftly, like he only has this moment to remember every detail of his face.  The hand on his shoulder grips at him. Alec thinks about how Rafael’s had held Magnus’s, how Max had laughed so loudly Alec had heard it from halfway across the meadow, how Rafael had fallen when they’d danced and how Magnus treats his ego, pride, and perfectionism with the same clarity as Alec does, tries to reassure him while helping him grow.

Magnus holds both of his kids with a chosen love that Alec understands perfectly.  Magnus holds him, is doing it now, with a longing tenderness Alec’s never felt from or for anyone else.  What is it?  This feeling between falling for the way he loves Max and Rafael and just falling for _him_.  The twisting vine that coils around familial and romantic.

“Alexander…” his voice slips low, dropping like it always does now, and Alec’s heart throbs once, slow, painful.  “This is…”

Alec looks into dark eyes, heat blooming inside his chest that trills up into his head, rocking him into a dizzy unsteadiness.

Years ago, when Alec was too busy trying to stop Valentine to care, Luke had said to him that a part of you knows when you’ve met the person you’re going to marry someday.  He hadn’t believed it then, and he hadn’t believed it five minutes ago, either.  But something inside him unlocks as Magnus’s eyes lose their glamour.

The thread that has ‘family’ and ‘lover’ tangled up in it uncoils, and it seems easy, then.  Magnus is, or is becoming, the father of his children.

“Alexander?”  Magnus’s hand holds his shoulder firmer.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”  He staggers, the ground under him turning into a vast dark ocean for the second time that night.

Isn’t it too soon?  Maybe for the ‘lover’ part, but everything else… He might not be a dad to them yet, but he wants to be.  He’s becoming one.  Max already sees him that way. He...

“Do you need to sit down?”

Alec shakes his head.  He brings their dancing to a stop, climbing his hand higher up Magnus’s back with an urgency that he thinks could make him faint. He looks at his pink mouth, feeling his own lips part. The sound of the music, the quiet chatter of the remaining guests, and the forest at night all die on his ears. His whole world folds in on just Magnus.

Alec sucks in a sharp breath of air as he leans down and kisses him. Vaguely he dreads how lame that must be, to surprise yourself with your own actions, to be this nervous about a kiss at his age. For his shoulders to be shaking with absolute terror and anticipation at a kiss, just a kiss, it’s only a kiss and it’s only their first; the shaking rushes from his shoulders down to his spine and spreads in an arch through his stomach and chest when Magnus leans up into him, pressing and pulling and a warm hand threading through the hair at the back of his head that is exactly as gentle as it needs to be.

Magnus pulls away, only enough to see him.  He looks up at Alexander with glassy eyes.  “Are you alright?” He’s shaking so hard Magnus can feel it.

Setting their foreheads together, Alec nods.  He rubs at Magnus’s back before he dips his head and kisses him again.

Alec feels his heart drop to the bottom of himself.  But it’s as if Magnus catches it as his hands slide down from his neck and clasp at Alec’s shoulder blades, holding him as his knees give out.  They buckle under the press of Magnus’s warm mouth, set soundly against his own. His lip gloss tastes strong and sweet.

Magnus makes a muffled noise as he steps back to hold Alec’s weight, steadying him.  Alec parts his lips, only slightly, tipping his head sideways to kiss across Magnus’s whole mouth.  He’s slow and dragging and deliberate.  Magnus has had a great deal of kisses, most of which were more venereal than this first with Alexander, but he’s never been kissed so carefully before.  Like he’s precious.  Like every part of him was meant to be remembered.

Alexander walks him backwards until Magnus hits the tree.  A hand catches the back of his head before it can slam into the trunk.  Then Alexander’s hips rut up against him, his broad chest following.  Magnus gasps faintly.  The action and contact were unexpected given Alec’s reserved nature and that this is, as far as Magnus is aware, his first kiss.  But the feeling of finally being pressed together claims him.  All of Alexander’s swelling muscles bearing down against Magnus, their half-hard cocks almost grinding – it has Magnus parting his legs, hoping he’ll do it again.

A whine escapes the back of Alec’s throat as Magnus’s legs shift.  His warm, sweet scent wraps around Alec like a heavy blanket.  He brings their hips together again. Rubs his clothed partial erection into the inside of Magnus’s thigh.

The fingers that have once again found Alec’s neck tug and play with his hair, something about them opening something in Alec he’d never known existed, let alone that it was shut.

He’s thought about kissing another man since he could remember, has thought about kissing Magnus every hour of every day for too many days to count.  The actual thing is so different from his daydreams. It’s better for all of its imperfections (the tree bark digging into the back of his hand where it’s holding Magnus’s head, that Alec is pretty sure he tastes like Nixie wine, the way their teeth hit together when Alec tries to get closer) and not despite them.

Alec pulls back, breathing shallow and frantic.  He doesn’t open his eyes.  He sets his forehead against Magnus’s again, heart hammering so hard it bangs in his eardrums.

“Magnus—”

Whatever composure Magnus had left collapses at how Alexander says his name.  Part way through a pant, helpless and self-depreciative.

“I don’t-” Alec presses in from their foreheads to their torsos, chest heaving. “You...” He doesn’t understand.  Why is Magnus _here_?  In Alec’s arms?  When he could be anywhere, with anyone, someone who won’t die on him. Because someday Alec will, and Rafael will, and the guilt from that is never going to leave Alec.  There will always be a part of him that hates himself for what he’s putting Magnus through.

But when had his guilt switched from worrying that Magnus would leave them someday, to realizing he won’t?

“It can’t be worth it,” Alec whispers, “for you.  I can’t be…”

Magnus scratches at the back of his head, his eyes still closed as well.  “What are you talking about, Alexander?”

“I’m just another…” one of tens, hundreds, thousands?  “I mean, I know you– you like me,” his voice is deathly quiet, “But I can’t be different from all the other people you’ve been with.  And I’m mortal.  So why...”

Alexander’s eyes are still shut when Magnus opens his.

How can he not know how gone Magnus is with him? How can he think he isn’t different from the other people Magnus has been with? Isn’t special?  He hasn’t said so verbally yet, but certainly by action he’s told Alec a hundred times.  

“Alexander,” Magnus says. He puts a hand on Alec’s jaw. Their foreheads are still set together, and he can feel Alec’s breaths against his face. “I’m going tell you what I like so much about you.”  Hazel eyes open.  They’re hazy, wet and clouded.  “I promised you I would once you kissed me, after all.”

“That’s not why I did it.”

Magnus’s smile falls, and he looks sadly at Alexander.  “Of course not, darling,” he says, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

Alec leans his head into the touch, and Magnus starts.

“When I saw you for the first time, standing with Max in my school,” Magnus makes sure to catch Alec’s gaze and doesn’t let it go, keeps his voice gradual and careful, “it was like a switch flicked on in my head, one that’s been off for more than a hundred years. And now it’s something else altogether. I don’t know what to call it.”

Alec is watching him. Magnus can see the tendons of his neck constricting, and his eyes skirt away.

He continues, determined that Alec know all of this.  How amazing he is, how much he deserves.  “You’re the most loving person I’ve ever met, you put your heart into everything you do.  Archery, work, your sons...” Magnus has only seen Alec shoot his bow once, when he’d gone over to surprise Max, but he’s graceful as a fox when he does it, “You’re reserved but you have all this warmth to you, and I can’t help but want it, which I’m sure is selfish of me.”

Alec’s face is turning red. Magnus wants to kiss every inch of it, has to steady himself with the tree at his back and Alexander at his front when the agonizing urge to do so invades him. 

“No one else I’ve been with has ever worried about _me_ being hurt, but it’s as if it doesn’t even cross your mind that I’m a four-century old Warlock and ought to be able to take care of myself.”  He thinks of Alec worrying about him being spent after using his magic, Alec stepping in front of him when Camille had shown up, defending him with Allison too, “You treat me like I’m somehow precious and you make me _feel_ that way, unique and unsteady, like I’m someone quite different from the person everyone expects me to be. You see right through me, you know.”

Magnus’s own face is growing warm. He grips his hand down along Alec’s neck where it meets his shoulder, partially for the closeness and partially to steady himself.

“You treat me like I’m delicate,” his voice goes quiet, almost a whisper, “No one’s ever done that.” No one’s ever done a lot of things Alexander does.

Magnus rubs their foreheads together, pushing up at Alec slightly. He shifts the hand on Alec’s neck from near his shoulders to close to his hairline. Closes his eyes until he feels stable enough to continue, opening them as he speaks again. “It’s as if the ancient waters of my mind don’t impede you at all—you wade through them and draw out every single thing I’ve let drown: that I’m alone, empty, unlovable.” Alec’s expression goes on alert. Magnus smiles at him, caresses along the back of his neck.  “But as you do you hold onto them until they’re warm, nothing but a few pieces of who I am, nothing threatening at all; you fill my eyes and none of my fears can make it past you to get to me.”

Alec just stares at him.  His face is so red it burns, his heart is pounding so hard it hurts.  He’s never had someone say so many intimate things to him all at once, probably not even altogether in his whole life, Alec can’t _breathe_. “Magnus…”

“Alexander,” Magnus looks up at him through glittering lashes, and Alec's head spins, “With immortality comes the threat of stagnation, but you keep me awake. I’ve never had someone make me feel so many different ways at once.” Magnus’s smile is small and a little distressed.  “I’ve never wanted someone like this,” the hand on his neck shifts up to hold the side of his head again, and Alec feels his heart move with it, “I _know_ this can’t be forever, I swear to you I’m not brushing aside the reality of our situation.”  Alec brings a hand up cover Magnus’s. “But it’s worth it. However long I can get with you, _and_ with Max and Rafael, it’s worth all the pain in the world.”

Alec can’t form a sound, let alone a word or string them into a sentence. There’s nothing he can think of to say.  

So instead he brings Magnus in, leaning down to kiss him again. He mouths at his top lip and then his bottom, the tangy taste of his gloss overwhelming on his tongue. Alec clings near-franticly at the hand held under his.  His heart stutters, all of Magnus’s words running through his mind.

Alec presses him against the tree, his tall frame bearing down on Magnus.  He tries to reciprocate everything Magnus said to him with the kiss.  He grasps at the fingers held on the side of his face again, his heart pounding. Alec moves his hand slowly from the back of Magnus’s head, where it has been between him and the tree, and glides it down to his waist.  

He shifts his neck and nudges at Magnus, forcing his head to tilt back further so Alec can kiss just his bottom lip.  He slides his own two around it, feels their mouths catch and drag against each other’s, a shudder running up his spine that reaches his lips as he breathes out his nose. He tries to say everything with the act. He tries to get all the rushing heat in his head and in his chest to pour over to Magnus like the flood Alec feels inside himself.

Breaths desperate, he pulls back just to stare at Magnus. He looks wrecked, his suit ruffled, his cat eye’s bleary as they blink open, his cheeks flushed. He looks  _beautiful_ , just like he had when Alec had seen him from the altar.  But it’s different, up this close. Warm and held together, Alec can see his lip gloss smudged, his hair falling out of place, all the imperfections Magnus normally hides with magic.  

Alec brings their lips together again, falls into it, finds he can’t help it.  Magnus makes a noise at the sudden contact. But it’s drowned out by Alec’s mouth pressed against his, the sounds they're making, their heavy breathing.

He kisses at the top of Magnus’s mouth, feels the clean edges of the bow on his upper lip as his own rounder ones glide against it. It’s frantic, the way they feel against his own, the way they’re kissing—    
  
Alec goes lightheaded, dizzily running his lips over Magnus’s again and again, wanting more of him as his chest starts to flutter and his muscles go limp and slack.  

Magnus’s hand on the side of his face threads through Alec’s hair and he leans back, their kiss turning soft and sparse.  Alec thinks Magnus had done it on purpose—that he’d known it was becoming too much for Alec.

Alec pulls away, his voice ragged.  “I’ll tell you what I like about you,” he says, panted words beating softly against Magnus’s parted lips. He slides his other hand down Magnus’s arm to his waist.

Magnus’s eyes stay closed. “Alright.”

Alexander kisses him again, the slow brush of lips thrillingly sweet. Magnus thinks he could get drunk on it.  Then Alec spreads his hands flat along his torso, causing the muscles in his stomach to spasm.  Butterflies overtake Magnus, unfurling in his chest as Alexander’s full lips rub against his again and again. He can’t believe he has _butterflies_ after all these years, can’t remember the last time he’d been kissed into such nervousness.  Magnus isn’t sure if he’s _ever_ been kissed like this. It sends a thrill straight through him, all the way to his toes.  

He slips his hand to Alexander’s ear.  Magnus rubs at the lobe, smiling as it makes him moan quietly into his mouth.

“But there’s a catch,” Alec whispers against his lips, barely pulled back at all.

Magnus laughs. Alec can feel the vibrations in his chest where it’s set against Magnus's sending a shiver through him.

Magnus brings their lips together for a long moment, then moves away. “What is it?”

Alec kisses Magnus’s mouth and then its corner, his cheek and then his jaw, gliding his lips down along bronze skin until his face is buried in the side of Magnus’s neck.

Magnus breathes in quickly and then a quiet, needing sound comes from him, something between a sigh and a closed-mouth gasp.

Alec’s cheeks are flaring. He wants to say this but it’s heavy, makes him heady to think about. His lips brush against the soft heated skin of Magnus’s throat. “You have to make love to me first,” he says, voice rasped and raw and ruined, “Then I’ll tell you.”

Magnus goes stiff.  His heart seems struck, and he shifts under Alexander to stare at his head.

Alec leaves his face hidden in Magnus’s neck, sure his cheeks match the rose in pocket.  It’s too hot under his suit.  He breathes in.  His fingers grip at the silky fabric of Magnus’s shirt, just above his pelvis.

“Too much?” he asks in a whisper.

Magnus moves so he can lift Alexander’s face up, hand held soundly at the side of his head once more.  He looks abashed. His trapezius muscles are tight with nerves, his eyes are darting and watered.

He slides his hand just behind Alexander’s ear, at the base of his skull, and Magnus drags him down and drives their lips together.  He tastes his own gloss on Alec’s mouth.

There are chains that come with immortality, the impending fact of eventual stasis, your heart quitting, turning into a husk of who you once were. But Magnus can hardly feel any of them with Alexander holding him.  Just as he’d said, Alec stands in between Magnus and everything he fears.  Not a distraction, not an escape, just support.  Someone to tether himself to.

Alexander says his name in a breath between a kiss, and Magnus feels for the first time in four-hundred years his heart give itself up fully.

“It’s not too much,” Magnus says, closing his eyes and pressing up into Alec, “It’s _always—_ ”

Echoing through the warm summer night, someone screams.


	20. Sentinel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [bleedingoptimism](http://bleedingoptimism.tumblr.com/) for the Spanish, and thanks to [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com) like always.

Rafael rolls over in the strange bed that’s almost as big as Dad’s.  Max is next to him, sleeping soundly, his blue face calm and familiar in the dark.

The four of them had been together all night, and the woman hadn’t shown up once.  Rafael’s so happy he reaches for one of his brother’s hands, taking it and hugging it snugly, not knowing how else to express the joy pooling in his heart.

Dad and Max have always been his family. They’ve always been enough, even if he wonders about his mom and dad, keeps their picture beside his bed at home.  Dad and Max have always been everything to Rafael.

Magnus is new, is different, but Rafael thinks it’s sort of like he fits into all the spaces around the three of them. Space he didn’t know were there.

“Can’t sleep, little flower?”

Rafael’s heart thuds in ice-cold fear—then he slams them shut and squeezes Max’s hand. _No_ , he thinks, _no, not now, not now._

“Oh don’t be like that, sweetheart.”  Her voice ties around him, tightening like a knot.  “Come talk with me.”

He doesn’t want to.  He doesn’t move.  But something moves Rafael, forces him to let go of Max. He can’t control his legs, his arms, his whole body.  Rafael gets out of bed, and follows the woman down the hall into an empty room.

She sits on the bed in there.  It sinks under her weight.

Rafael’s eyes widen.

He can’t see through her like he normally can. This isn’t a summon, a form, not a projection of her.  She’s _here_.

He balls his hands into fists, his veins pulsing in his palms.

The door slams shut behind him, sudden and loud.  Rafael doesn’t jump, but he flinches.  She laughs at him through her nose.

“You’re here.”

She grins.  “I’m here.  And do you know how I got into the Seelie Realm?”

Rafael feels nauseous.  He looks down at his chest.

She stands up, slinking towards him.  Her fingers find his chin.  She tilts his head up sharply.

“That’s right, my little flower.”  Though she always calls him her little something, Rafael can feel the possession like a cage this time. The mark on his chest burns. “Do you know what they do to Shadowhunters who betray their own kind?”

He glares at her, her finger still holding his chin up.

“Oh, brave now, are we?”

“Get out.”

She drops her hand from his face. “I’m only trying to help, like I’ve told you.  Magnus is—”

“Shut up about Magnus!”

“He’s using you, little one.”

“He likes me!”

She looks at him sadly, like Rafael is stupid, pathetic, something to be held in pity. “He doesn’t.”

He glares up at her, as hard as he can. “He DOES!”

“No, hunny. He’s _manipulating_ you.”

“SHUT UP!” Rafael looks down at the floor.  The flower printed into his chest feels like it grows and chokes him, like a snake suffocating its prey. “Get out!” He sinks to the floor and he grips his hair and he pulls and pulls and pulls, trying to pull her words out of his head. “Get out get out GET OUT!”

Cold fingers stroke through his hair like freezing rain. “Poor thing. Here you are, yelling at me,” she says, her tone dark, words strung together like a song, “when your little brother is in the other room, all alone.”

Rafael looks up at her, eyes red and sore.

“Or,” she quirks her head with a tight smile, “is he?”

 

* * *

 

Max is under the bed with his head in his knees, frozen solid by the sound of her voice, and the feeling of her magic all around the room.  He doesn’t remember her well.  But he remembers the basement, and he remembers the machines, and he remembers the mounting pressure of magic overflowing in his body, hours and hours spent on that cold table.

He remembers bright flashes of light followed by starving bleakness, a void in his mind along with his stomach.

“Max,” she says his name like it’s dirty, like there’s something wrong with it, “Come here.”

Max wants to run but even if he could, he can hear the fire cracking at the floor.

Where are Dad and Magnus?  Where’s Raf?

“Max, come out.   _Now_.”

He doesn’t move.  But her magic moves him, wrapping around Max like a cage.  His little heart beats as fast as a tiny rabbit’s would in the presence of a hungry wolf.

Her cold, dark eyes pour into Max, along with her energy.  The pulse of her magic is suffocating, worse than any nightmare he’s ever had.

Max doesn’t scream. He wants to, but he keeps his mouth shut tight. He scrambles away from under the bed, running for the far wall towards the door, dodging fire as he goes.

But he’s cornered in seconds.

 

* * *

 

A sudden rush sounds after the Vampire stops speaking. Rafael turns to look.

Fire.

It’s creeping in through the crack at the bottom of the door, curling up into the room.

“So sorry, little one.” She smiles down at him where he’s still kneeling on the floor.  “Looks like you’re trapped.”

Rafael doesn’t turn to face her.  He lets his hands fall from his hair, keeping his eyes on the flames.  He studies them. They look off, somehow.  Too bright.

Rafael’s eyes widen.

_You can always tell Warlock fire by the colour.  It’s just slightly more yellow._

He hides all the movement of his muscles, just like Dad taught him, before he makes a break for it.

Rafael springs for the door.  The woman’s eyes keep up with him, but he runs through the fire, the tendrils tickling him harmlessly just like when Magnus let him run his fingers through it.  Skidding left, Rafael bursts into the bedroom he and Max were sharing.

Empty.

Hurrying he dashes down the hall, running the opposite way from where the woman had lead him, thinking she’d want Max as far away from Rafael as possible.

He runs into the first open door he sees, Warlock fire tickling uselessly at his skin.  He comes to a stop as quickly as he’d broken into the run.

Max’s mother is there.

Her back is to Rafael. She hasn’t seen him yet.

Max is sitting in a corner, knees bunched up to his chest and expression blank, staring up at Allison.

His brother doesn’t know the fire is fake.  Max thinks he’s trapped.

The Vampire’s footsteps creak down the hall.  Rafael knows she can move fast – he knows she’s taking her time because she thinks he’s just a kid and he can’t stop them, a Vampire and a Warlock.

But Rafael could do anything for Max.

He doesn’t have a blade or a stele, but he charges at Allison, quiet as a hawk sails through the sky. Rafael shoves her against the wall with everything he has.

Allison stumbles into the wall.  Rafael moves quick, he knows he won’t get another chance to sneak up on her.

“Max!”  Rafael’s arms wrap around him and he lifts his little brother into his chest, his heart pounding, sweat starting at his hairline.  Max doesn’t seem to notice him, but Rafael speaks anyway. “Trust me, okay?”  He turns and rushes into the hallway, through the harmless flames. Rafael knows it might hurt Max, but it will only be in his head.

The Vampire is in the hall.  She stops Rafael with a hand held up.  His legs go instantly stiff.  He feels the mark on his chest go hot again.

“Not so fast, little one,” Camille says. He’s sure now that she’s Camille, the old leader of the New York Vampires. He’d looked up pictures at home.  He’d needed to know who she was.

Allison walks slowly out of the room behind him.

Both women stand in front of Rafael.  Camille grins, and Allison looks as stoned-faced as he remembers her.

Rafael clutches at his little brother.  He’s backed into a wall, at the dead-end of the corridor.

Whatever happens to him doesn’t matter – he needs to get Max out of here.

“Oh come _here_ , little thing,” Camille says, rolling her eyes.  She pulls at the air with her fingers.  Like a hook is lodged into his torso, Rafael feels something yank him forward.  He can’t control his feet again.  He steps closer and closer to the two women.

Max clings to him.  Rafael thinks he must be feeling his mother’s magic.

He looks at Rafael, his eyes wide and searching. “Raf?” Max grips at the short sleeves of Rafael’s tshirt. “Raf, what are you _doing_?” His voice hikes up and breaks at the end.

“No.” Rafael feels his eyes water.  “Max, I’m not-”

Camille snaps her fingers and the mark on his chest flares like a real fire, and it kills his voice.

With horrified, bloodshot eyes, Rafael watches as his own arms lift up to give his little brother away.

 

* * *

 

“What was that?” Alec asks, still holding Magnus against the tree.  He backs away a little to look behind him, where the scream had come from.  It was high-pitched, probably female.

Magnus looks across the field, past the dancing area, towards the indoor venue. His eyes widen at what he can see rising up into the night sky.  “There’s smoke.”

“What?”

“Alexander,” Magnus pushes him away gently but with urgency, “I think there’s a fire.”

Alec’s hands grip onto Magnus, though now it’s out of a different sort of desperation.  They don’t waste time looking at each other.  Their heads fill with the same fear and they start running.

At first all they can see in the venue building, lit up in bright flames.  There are Downworlders - mostly Seelies - and Shadowhunters alike running around , gathering kids, ushering people to safety, and trying to put the fire out with spells that don’t seem to be working.

They can’t see the cabins yet, but the same thought burns in both their minds.  
  
“Do you think it was an accident?” Alec asks, hurrying beside Magnus across the grass.

“In the Seelie Realm?” Magnus looks ahead as they run. “No.”

As they get closer, they can see around the venue room, where the cabins are.  Izzy and Clary’s isn’t lit up, and for a moment they both begin to relax.

But the one Max and Raf are in comes into view, and it is lit up.  Angry flames curl up its sides, stretching out windows and charring white wood to black.

Alec’s heart stops beating.  His legs seize up, his stomach hollowing out.

“No...”

“Alec _._ ”

Magnus’s voice hits his ears but Alec hardly hears it.  He’s about to break into a run when a solid hand grips his arm.

“Wait.”

“Magnus they’re _in_ there!”

“I’m going to teleport us.” Green eyes latch onto Alec’s gaze. Alec searches them, his head ringing.

He nods.

With a bright flash of blue light and a warm surge of magic building around them, Magnus sends them inside the cabin.  He’s beyond thankful that he’d gone in with Max earlier that night; he sets them right inside the front hall.

Alec blinks stars out of his eyes.

There are flames everywhere.  Fear grows in Alec, sucking every other feeling from him like a parasite.

“This is Warlock fire,” Magnus says, looking around at the flames.

For a moment Alec’s fear subsides a fraction.

But then he realizes what that means.

“Alec! Magnus!”  Izzy’s voice rings down the hall. She runs towards them, clad in a black night dress.  She has her whip in one hand, and Alec’s bow in the other.

“Izzy.” Alec’s voice is stiff. “Where are Max and Raf?”

“I just got here,” she says, tossing him his bow.  Alec catches it. “Meliorn got our weapons from the Court.  Did you two see what happened?”

Alec and Magnus both shake their heads.

“C’mon,” Isabelle says, slipping between them to make her way down the front hall.  They follow her.  “Clary is rounding up the guests, Mom and Jace are at the perimeter with a few Faeries, and the Seelies are checking the portals.  But no one knows where the fire came from.  It popped up like magic.”

“It’s a Warlock spell,” Magnus says. Decorative vines and flowers and faerie art are all lit on fire, charring though the flames are fake. “A strong one,” he adds, looking at the destruction.

Izzy gazes at him from Alec’s shoulder, her long lashes parting as she widens her eyes. “Allison?”

Alec shares a look with his sister.

“The fire is physically harmless,” Magnus explains just as Izzy inches away from a flame that crawls up a wall and flicks out towards her, “but the magic tricks your mind into thinking it hurts if you aren’t aware of its true nature.”

She looks at him, then back to the fire, the three of them making their way through the cabin. “So at the very least,” Izzy says, studying the flames wryly, “She is not trying to burn anyone alive.”

“Max!” Alec shouts as they run up a set of stairs to the second floor hall, where the room his kids are sharing is. “Rafael!!” His shouts are laced with frenzy, a mad plea for them to be alright; Magnus sets a hand on his arm as he comes up beside Alec.

Nothing.

When they get to Max and Rafael’s room, it’s empty.

“ _Shit_ ,” Alec curses, running a hand through his hair.  His eyes dart around the hallway like two search lights.

“Alexander,” Magnus squeezes his arm, “Max is still here, I can feel him.”

Yet the fear in Alec’s eyes is all too easy to reflect.  Magnus holds his arm tighter.

“Alec,” Isabelle says while she watches the creases around her brother’s eyes and neck strain, signs of his rising panic, “You go back the way we came.  Check the other rooms.  Magnus and I will keep going this way.”

Magnus wants to argue. He wants to ask Isabelle why she’s sending Alexander off on his own. But he won’t waste time doing so.  Max and Rafael come first.

Alexander gives Magnus a long look that could mean a lot of things, all of which scramble in Magnus’s head.  He gives him the same look back.  Then Alec flicks his wild, fear-ridden gaze at his sister and she nods once, heavily. Magnus is fairly certain that look means ‘take care of him.’ He pretends not to notice.

Alec leaves, running down the corridor, back toward the stairs.

Isabelle and Magnus aren’t five steps further down the hall when they see something Magnus never would have guessed at.

Camille Belcourt’s long hair and the sleek body attached to it come out of a room.  She’s walking casually down the hall, though her footfalls carry purpose.  She rounds the corner, disappearing out of sight.

“Is that…” Izzy keeps her voice low. “Camille Belcourt?”

Why is _she_ here?

Magnus looks at Isabelle and presses a finger over his lips.  Silently, they follow her path.

When they round the same corner Camille had, another, more expected figure comes into view.

Camille is standing next to a fountain of blue hair Magnus recognizes from the school and his date with Alec.

Fear and rage snap in his spine like fire snaps old wood, popping and cracking in all of his joints.  Why is Camille with _Allison_?  What the hell is going on?

But the question becomes absolutely unimportant when he peers between the two women.

Rafael is backed into the corner at the end of the hall, clutching Max in his arms.

Magnus’s heart stops.

Rafael is staring up at Camille and Allison with a fearlessness Magnus knows the meaning of.  Wild, uncaring. He’s ready to die. He’s ready to discard himself for his little brother.

Magnus is moving forward without another thought.  He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to dispel his anger so he can focus, breathing deeply.

When he opens them, the spell ready on his lips and fingers, Magnus sees Rafael holding Max out to Allison.

It must be magic.  Nothing else could ever make Rafael give up his little brother.

With a dark glare etched into his face, Magnus sends a bright bolt of blue light hurling towards Allison.  It expands and encapsulates her, pulling her to her knees and keeping here there, trapped.

Camille turns to look at him, face washed with surprise.  She snarls at Magnus as soon as their gazes meet. “Too late, love,” she says, and then lurches forward for Max and Rafael.

Beside him, Isabelle strikes her whip out.  It curls around Camille’s neck like a collar.  She yanks backwards, _hard_.  Magnus is sure he hears a tendon snap.

“Not fucking happening, pendeja.”

“Magnus!”  Rafael shouts, his voice hoarse with hope and desperation.  “Izzy!”

Magnus doesn't waste any time. He runs over to the boys and falls to the floor, wrapping his arms around Rafael and Max as tightly as he can.  He shields them with his body. He can feel how weak Max’s magic is, how Rafael falls into him, breaths torn and tattered.

Holding both kids in his arms, Magnus turns his head back towards his friend. “Isabelle!”

“Magnus, GO!”

Alexander will never forgive him if something happens to his sister.  Magnus would never forgive himself, either.  He can’t leave her here alone with these two monsters.

He casts the same spell over Camille, trapping her in a cap of blue magic.  The spell is generally simple – but Allison is a formidable Warlock in her own right and Camille is used to his magic, so it requires more energy than it normally would.

“Hurry!” Magnus shouts.

Isabelle recoils her whip from Camille’s throat and runs over, cursing at him in Spanish.

Teleportation spells are taxing and technically illegal, but at soon as Isabelle is touching him Magnus whisks the four of them out of there without a thought.

They materialize in his loft. Magnus sets Rafael down and puts Max in his older brother’s arms once again.  He looks at Isabelle and thinks his voice sounds distant, like it’s someone else’s, as he speaks.

“I need to go back for Alexander.  Stay here and—”

“ _I’m_ going back for Alec,” Isabelle says, hands gripping her whip.

“Isabelle.”

“Magnus,” she lifts her head, squaring her chin at him, “Don’t argue with me.  Max and Rafael need you here.  You’re better protection for them on your own than I would be.” He wonders again, then, why she had suggested Alec be the one to go off alone.  “Alec and I can handle Camille and Allison together.”

“I won’t have _both_ of you—”

“The longer you argue with me the longer Alec is on his own,” she says, folding her arms and jutting a defiant hip out.  Her eyebrows raise in a distinct ‘what do you have to say to _that_?’ manner.

Magnus bristles. _Lightwoods_.  

“Isabelle…” He frowns darkly at her. He won’t be pushed around, not about this, not about much of anything, really.

Her tone falls to a request. Her mouth and eyes turn down, in worry, in fear. “ _Please_ ,” she says, “You really _are_ better protection for them, and I think— I think Max needs you, right now.”  She takes one of Magnus’s hands, squeezing. “I’ll keep Alec safe,” she looks directly into his eyes, unwavering, “we’ve always had each other’s backs.”

Magnus breathes out his nose. _Lightwoods_ , he thinks again, his indignant heart filling with love.

“I’ll stay,” he says, keeping his eyes as unwavering as her's, “but only because Max and Rafael are here. And if anything happens—”  

“I’ll call.” Isabelle relaxes, her hand in his loosening. “Thank you.”

“You’re more stubborn than your brother,” he says, snapping her a portal.

“I’m definitely not.” Isabelle smiles. “He’s just relaxed around you.” She looks at Rafael and Max. “I’ll be back with your dad in no time, mis sobrinitos.” She looks at Magnus once more, eyes softening.  “I promise.”  
  
With that, she disappears through the purple cloud of the portal.

Magnus has never once in his life waited at home while others were out fighting.  He’d tried to go into hiding during Valentine’s second uprising, but it had never felt right. He’d always done whatever he could to help, had always sought to be part of the battle, given that it was a just cause.

But looking down at Max and Rafael, at all the panic in their faces, he thinks Isabelle is right, at least about one thing.  Magnus _wants_ to be here.  One of them, either himself or Alexander, needs to be here right now.

Sighing, worry coursing through him, Magnus bends down to pick up Max. He stands, holding him close.

“Are you okay, blueberry?”

Eyes hollow and blank, Max sets their foreheads together. The act is boneless, and his body is cold.  Without a thought Magnus sends a wave of magic through him, giving Max all the energy he needs, pushing all of Allison’s away.

When he’s done, Max is asleep, head falling to Magnus’s shoulder.

Magnus sets him on the couch, his chest aching.  If anything were to happen to either Max or Rafael, he doesn’t know what he’d do.  He’s lost a lot of people during his lifetime.  But this would be different.  All the pieces of him that matter, that make him who he is as a person, would die with them.

“Magnus.”

He starts slightly, the sound snapping him out of his thoughts. Rafael’s voice is small, his tone decrepit, and Magnus hadn’t expected to ever hear it like that, knowing how proud and private Rafael is.  He turns around, one hand still on Max’s hair.

“I… I…”

Rafael is gripping at the ends of his white tshirt, hands searching for pockets to slip into that aren’t there.

Pride and privacy aside, Magnus should’ve known Rafael wouldn’t be faring any better than his brother.  Being hunted by those two women must have scared him just as much as Max.  They’d used magic on him, had tried to force him to give Max away, had taken control of his body, had tried to make him hurt someone he loved.  For Rafael, there likely isn’t anything worse.

Magnus is so used to seeing Rafael as older, so used to Rafael acting older, that he had forgotten for a moment. For all of his sarcasm and bravery, his lexicon, his extensive knowledge of designerware, his willingness to die only moments ago – Rafael is still a _child_.  

Magnus won’t forget it, never again.

He stands and he’s next to Alexander’s older son in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees.  “He’s going to be alright, Rafael,” Magnus says, setting a hand on his upper arm.

Rafael shakes his head violently.  Beads of water gather at the bottom of his eyes.  “Magnus—” He chokes as the tears start to fall, one after another in small droplets.  They spill from brown eyes that look up at Magnus, lost.

Magnus just stares back, absolutely stunned.

“ _Magnus—_ ”

The sound of his name from Rafael’s voice, said in such despair and need, has Magnus pulling Rafael into a hug before he’s fully conscious of the act.

Fingers cling at Magnus’s suit, trembling and small.  Rafael lets out a heavy sob.  It rakes through him hard enough for Magnus to feel it.

Magnus hushes him softly, rubbing at his back as an emotion overcomes him that he’s never known. “It’s alright, Rafael,” he whispers, and Rafael shakes more, sobs filling Magnus’s chest.  They strike right into his heart.  “He’s fine, your father will be fine, your aunt—”

Rafael slumps into Magnus, cutting him off.  All the weight of every worry-filled world on his shoulders slides from him. Magnus takes it all. He holds him tightly, hushing him again.

Quiet as a gentle wind in the dead of night, Rafael’s voice slips to Magnus’s ears. “It’s my fault.”

“No.” Magnus draws a line up and down his back. “None of this is your fault.”

“It _is_.”  He pushes away, but Magnus keeps his arms around Rafael’s back.  Tears stain his cheeks. He yanks down at the front of his shirt and says, “ _Look_.”

Magnus peers at the dark skin of his chest.  “Rafael, I don’t see anything,” he says, looking helplessly back at him.

“It’s right _here_!” Rafael pleads, poking at his sternum.  More tears build in his eyes, these ones heavy with frustration.  “It’s here,” he says, voice begging yet rasped and unsure.

“Is this about what Allison did?” Magnus asks, his mind turning as he tries to understand. “Rafael, tell me what happened in the store, or what-”

“I can’t tell you!” He nearly shouts, cutting Magnus off.  Tears fly down his cheeks, and he grips at Magnus’s shirt, words pouring out heedlessly. “I tried but I can’t!”

Magnus searches his face, his own frantic with worry. “You can,” he says.

“I can’t.” Rafael’s entire torso quakes with a mounting sob, and he rubs his palms into his eyes. “Magnus I _can’t_ ,” he cries, his voice cracking high at the end.

Max’s same words from months and months ago echo in Magnus’s head.  Alexander had come over then to help Max unlock his magic, had reassured him that he was safe, that Alec was there.  He’d given Max confidence through reassurance - and that had been enough.

Magnus brings a hand up to move dark bangs away from brown eyes. “You can,” he says again, keeping their gazes held together, “Whatever Allison did to you in that shop, Rafael, you’re strong enough to fight it.” A shudder runs through Rafael, and he sucks in a scratching breath.  Magnus rubs at his lower back.  He keeps his voice soft and soothing. “You’re a Shadowhunter and you’re amazing besides. You can fight her magic, and you can tell me what she’s done.”

Rafael looks at him for a moment, breathing out shakily, tears still falling.

Magnus wipes them away with the tips of gentle fingers. “I’m right here, little angel,” he says, voice breaking; he’s unaware of his own words, that they’ve been resting inside him all this time. “I’m always going to be right here.”

Rafael stares over at him, one hitching sob slipping from him, searching Magnus’s face.

Then he takes a deep breath that sounds too tired for such little lungs.  He grips at the open ends of Magnus’s suit jacket; gathers himself like Alexander often needs to.

Red, bleary eyes drop to Magnus’s shirt, his lips quivering as he speaks. “When I got lost, at the- the- the-” a ragged breath jumps up his throat, catching, “She-she- she was-” tears drip down his cheeks, one after another like water down a dark tinted window. Magnus wipes at them with a thumb, heart aching as they continue to drop despairingly fast. “She was th-there.

“But not…” Rafael shakes his head, fingers clutching at the suit jacket. “It wasn’t Max’s mom.”

“Who then?” Magnus asks, his chest tight.

Rafael sniffles, his voice a whisper felt more than heard, “Camille.”

Magnus’s eyes widen.  The tightness in his chest turns cold.

Rafael’s face falls into a deep shame when he sees Magnus’s expression. “I tried to tell you and Dad,” he pleads, words spilling out too fast, “I did but she- I _couldn’t_ -” Still more tears cascade down his small dark face, soft hitches clinging in his throat as small fingers dig into Magnus’s stomach.

Magnus’s heads spins, trying to piece everything together.  Why was Camille involved in this? He wipes more tears from Rafael’s cheeks.  Anger starts to flare inside him, but Magnus tampers it down for the moment, fearful that Rafael might think himself the cause.

“Rafael,” he says, “What did she do?  Did she hurt you?”

Rafael’s fingers twist in his jacket. “She said you wanted to hurt Dad and Max and that- that-” he starts to hyperventilate slightly, “She said-” Magnus wipes more tears away again, tries to calm him with the hand at his back, “but I didn’t, I- I- I-”

Magnus shushes Rafael, bringing him in soundly.  He shouldn’t have asked.  He can find out details later.

Rafael buries his face under Magnus’s neck.

“Rafael,” Magnus says, “I want you to listen to me.” The head under his jaw nods, fingers clutching at him. “Camille is a bad person.  She lies and she tricks.” Magnus shifts his head to speak into his dark hair, pressing his lips to it as he says, “This is not your fault.”

Another sob rolls through Rafael’s tiny body, his voice mangled, broken and his breath coming out uneven. Magnus holds on tighter.  He moves from kneeling to sitting on the floor, gathers Rafael up into the lap of his bent legs. Magnus makes sure to get every piece of him.  Rafael sets his head on Magnus’s shoulder, crying until water soaks through the thin bottom layer of his suit.

He holds on until Rafael is out of tears.

“She gave me a necklace,” Rafael says after a long moment, his words weak, still pressed against Magnus’s shoulder, “And it...” He lifts his face off of Magnus, pulling down at the neck of his tshirt. “It turned into this. I think this is how she got into the Faerie Realm.”

Magnus looks at the purple flower etched into Rafael’s skin, now entirely visible.  He knows immediately what kind of magic it is, and terror engulfs him.  Everything that might’ve happened to Rafael flashes through his mind.

“See?” Rafael says, water building in his eyes once more. “It’s my fault. She got in because of _me_.”

“ _No_ ,” Magnus says, snapping his eyes up to meet brown ones.  Rafael moves his hands to his hair, tugging at it senselessly. Magnus breathes in once, sharp and through his nose. He takes the hands away quickly, and sets one of his own on the side of Rafael’s face, locking their gazes. “This is _not_ your fault, Rafael.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes bloodshot.  Magnus remembers walking in on Rafael in his bedroom only three days ago, the veins in his eyes thick and painfully red. He knows now it’s from the magic Camille and Allison had used.  The kind that requires a Warlock and a Vampire.

Blood magic.

“Magnus,” he sniffles, rubbing at one eye, “I don’t think you want to hurt us.”  He holds the hand on the side of his face with one of his, gripping it as if Rafael thinks it might let him go. “But she said-” His words catch in a choked heap.

“Shh,” Magnus shushes him again.  He runs hair behind Rafael’s ear, as he’s seen Alexander do so many times before.

“She tried to make me believe it,” Rafael takes in a shuddering breath, “but I didn’t. I didn’t.” He says it like he needs to reassure himself.  So Magnus lets him talk, running his nails up and down his back. “I didn’t want her to hurt you, I thought—” He hiccups, which Magnus finds sweet, but pretends he doesn’t notice, just keeps rubbing his back and listening, “I thought she was going after you. Not Max.”

Magnus feels a warm, sad smile slide out over his face. He’s lost to love, he realizes, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.

“You’re so much like your father, Rafael,” Magnus says, running his finger around his ear once more, “Trying to protect everyone.”

Rafael’s shoulders hunch up, his nerves shot.  Frail with exhaustion from a spell too powerful for such a small body, he lies back down on Magnus, curling up under his chin.

Magnus holds onto him while Rafael falls apart in his arms.  He doesn’t cry again, but Magnus knows he’s broken anyway. He rubs at his back, cradles Rafael as if he’s done it a thousand times. Such a small person, someone Magnus is supposed to protect, hurt to the point of being broken, shattered in a way no child should feel, blood putrefied and soul culled from curse meant to be a catalyst for madness—

He kisses Rafael’s dark hair, both arms wrapped completely around him, hating himself for not noticing sooner. “I’m sorry,” Magnus whispers, “I should’ve…”

He should’ve done a lot of things. He should’ve asked Alexander more questions.  He should’ve insisted on examining Rafael himself.  He should've wondered why Camille had mentioned Max the night she’d walked in on Alexander and himself.

He’ll do better. He’ll _be_ better. He has to.

Rafael shakes his head slowly, his hair messing up against Magnus’s shoulder. “It’s not _your_ fault,” he says, the normal sarcasm slightly returned.

It is his fault, but Magnus doesn’t argue. There are more important things to be done.

“I’m going to call your aunt, okay?” Magnus says. Rafael pulls away from his shoulder, looking up at him with eyes as red as a scorching sunrise. Magnus rubs a thumb along his damp cheeks.

Rafael looks at him. “Why not Dad?”

Magnus pulls out his phone, holding it out to the side where Rafael can see, and begins dialing her number. “Isabelle is far more likely than your father to have broken the no-cell-phone policy the Seelies have in place,” he says, “And I expect Alexander will be with her.”

Rafael’s lips turn up into a small smile, suddenly charmed by something Magnus had said.

“Magnus?” Isabelle's voice calls through his phone.

“Yes—”

“Izzy, is that him?” Alexander’s voice is alert in the background. Rafael starts at the sound of his father. “Give me—”

“ _Wait_ , Alec.” She turns her attention back to Magnus. “How are Max and Raf?”

“They’re fine,” he’ll tell Alexander about Rafael later, privately, “Are you two alright?”

“We’re okay,” Isabelle says. Magnus smiles down at Rafael, who relaxes a little in his arms.  “Everyone’s okay. We’ve been calling you.”

“I’m sorry. I was detained for a moment.” Magnus looks again at Rafael in his arms and then at Max sleeping peacefully and is overcome with a sudden rush of relief. They’re here, in his lair, safe. “Did you two happen to catch Camille and Allison?”

“Izzy, give me the phone!” Alexander in the background again, his irritation prominent.

“Alec!”

There’s noise as a phone is snatched away and likely held up out of Isabelle’s reach.

“Magnus.” Alec’s voice is soothing, but Magnus doesn’t let it matter. “What’s going on? Izzy said Camille was here.”

“I will explain it to you later Alexander, I promise.” He draws unconscious lines around Rafael’s ear as he tenses at Camille’s name.  “Right now there’s something I need to do.”

“What?”

“Can you or your sister come to my flat?  Or are you busy with the Seelies?”

“I can. I’ll be there in...”

Magnus snaps a portal.  It takes a considerable amount of energy to create them backwards, to open one _from_ some place _to_ his current location, but it needs to be done.

He hangs up his phone, standing with Rafael still in his arms.  He won’t let him go until Alec is here to hold him.

“Dad’s coming?” Rafael asks, voice rough.

Magnus nods.

Seconds later Alexander is standing in his loft.  His black hair is a mess, his suit jacket discarded, and there’s a tension in his expression that fades when he sees his sons.

Magnus snaps open two more portals without even acknowledging him.

“This goes to the Institute,” he says, pointing to one. Then he slides Rafael into Alec’s arms, kissing the little Shadowhunter on the temple. “Take Rafael and Max with you.”

“Magnus-” Both Alec and Rafael say, staring at him in shock.

But Magnus is gone through the other portal before they even finish saying his name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update should be next weekend, the 29th. I'm getting ready to move to China for a year, so I'm busy, and after I move I'll be working so updates will be slower. I'm guessing twice a month. Thank you for all the comments!! I'll keep working hard :D


	21. Beyond Any Utterance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the three people who manage me: [Anna](http://woodsbane.tumblr.com), [Jaimie](http://sarcasticlightwood.tumblr.com), and [Sam](http://otppurefuckingmagic.tumblr.com).
> 
> Anna and Jaimie edited, Sam gave me a lot of ideas, and all three of them endured my whining. This chapter never would've gotten finished without these people. They deserve any thanks you give just as much as I do.

Magnus can feel his hands shaking as he storms through the portal, his vision blurring with white-hot rage that boils through his system. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes, just for a moment, so he can gather his thoughts.

His first priority has got to be keeping Camille away from Rafael. He hasn’t seen blood magic in centuries, but he remembers it well enough to work a few things out.

The only way Camille could’ve shown herself to Rafael in the Institute, in his mind or otherwise, was if she had cloaked herself using Shadowhunter blood. If she’d taken blood from Rafael, and coupled it with this curse, then she’d be able to project herself to him, anytime and anywhere she wanted. Magnus is willing to bet it was _her_ who had set the wards off in the Institute, weeks ago.

By now, the curse must’ve grown strong enough to allow her to fully transport herself and Allison to Rafael’s location — a feat still possible, so long as she has his blood. That’s how they’d gotten passed the extra wards the Fae had put up, and into the Seelie Realm.

The blood sample would also serve as a physical token of the curse. He hasn’t seen blood magic in centuries, but he remembers it well enough to know. It requires a tangible object to ground it. If the pendant had morphed into Rafael’s skin, then something else must take its place.

Magnus needs to retrieve Rafael’s blood to break the curse.

Undoubtedly, Camille would have returned home after escaping his spell in the Seelie Realm. He’s disappointed that his magic hadn’t lasted long enough for the Shadowhunters to catch her after he’d left with the boys, but thankful she’s blinded enough by her own ego to run back home instead of going somewhere to hide. Camille had always been overconfident - Magnus has no doubt she’ll be here.

He takes one more deep breath and opens his eyes. They immediately land on a pair of sinister-looking mahogany doors. He doesn't even have to think before he’s sending bright flares of magic surging from his hands to burst against the wood, delivering a thundering explosion of sound throughout the manor.

The echo of the doors slamming against walls is still rebounding when Magnus storms through the front corridor of Camille’s home, hands hot with tipping rage.

“ _Camille,_ ” he seethes, using more magic to amplify his voice so it calls throughout the entire manor. His chest is unbearably tight, heart pounding against his ribcage.

Magnus’s mind starts flipping through his memory of these rooms, trying to imagine exactly where she would keep a vial of precious blood. He can’t think of a single place she’d feel safe leaving it, and then it occurs to him that there’s no doubt she has it on her person. She wouldn’t let something that important out of her sight.

Magnus feels magic roll down his shoulders, acting on its own in his untempered fury.  Rafael’s hollow sobs are still raw in Magnus’s ears, the press of his hot tears still fresh on Magnus’s chest, those shaking shoulders still grasped in his arms.

“ _Camille_!” A chandelier above his head blows out as he storms down her front hall, glass and crystal shattering on the stone floor behind him.

Magnus feels angry sparks at his fingers and palms, his magic begging to be released.  For _her_ \- of all people - to worm her way into Rafael’s head, to use _magic_ to torture him with lies that would be too easy for him to believe even without the spell—

For _her_ to come after Rafael - who is already so unsure of himself, who had already been afraid of Magnus, already afraid of losing his father and brother. Whose fear had shifted to being worried _for_ Magnus because Rafael has the same warmth of heart Alexander has—

For it to be _Camille_ trying to tear apart someone Magnus loves, just as she’d torn him apart—

For Magnus to have _let it happen_ —

It has him absolutely sick with blinding rage.  His vision blurs again, his glamor burns away and his cat eyes flash out.

Magnus jerks to a stop when Camille appears in front of him, sudden as a lightning strike.

“Yes, my sweet?” She purrs, smiling up at him.  A hot streak of energy snaps up his spine. It burns, loud and sharp, cracking a picture frame on the wall. “Oh,” Camille raises her brow, “are you _upset_?”

The frame cracks deeper, wood splintering.

Magnus would kill her.  He _wants_ to kill her.  Every cell in his body—every _single_ cell imprinted permanently with Rafael’s broken sobs—demands that this ends with her death.

He swallows.

But it can’t.

“ _Where_ is the blood, Camille?” he asks, trying to ignore the image of Rafael’s bloodshot eyes that keeps flickering in his mind.

Camille smirks up at him.

“Why don’t you come in for a little drink?” She disappears then, only a small laugh indicating she’s somewhere down the hall.

Magnus snaps his fingers, the crack brighter and more shrill than usual, magic reverberating up his arm.  He sends himself directly in front of her, in the living room where they’d often shared drinks.  Camille dares to grin, and then she’s running off again.  Gritting his teeth, Magnus snaps his fingers once more and reappears in front of her, now in her study where they used to move on to other activities. She’d never wanted to have him in her bed.

He doesn’t like being in here, has avoided it for years. It brings back too many memories. They siphon through him a love that used to burn so strongly he’d thought he’d finally found someone to share an eternity with.  

Camille had always been a loveless lover, but Magnus had been hopelessly hopeful at every turn.  He’d met all of her unloving instances with unending affection. He’d met all of her greed with passion. Eventually, he’d thought, she would return his feelings. Sometimes he’d thought he could see it in her eyes; a small piece of the whole of his own heart reflected there. Sometimes she would kiss him, and he’d fall so completely into it he was sure he couldn’t be falling alone.

What a trick it all was.

Camille smiles smugly up at him. “Well, this is fun.” One of her pale, icy hands reaches out to clasp his elbow.

An unbidden spark snaps at her hand.

She hisses, retracting it in pain.  Camille pouts up at him. “Don’t be like _that_.”

Magnus ignites the tips of his index and middle fingers.  He looms over her, pressing them to her neck. “The _blood_ ,” he lets his magic slice through the first few layers of skin across her throat.  No blood leaks out, vampires have none to bleed, and she only smiles as she’s carved into.

“It’s no big deal, Magnus.”  She sighs as if she’s fond of him despite his obviously idiotic tendency to care for others. “I didn’t hurt him... Not much, anyway.”

He pushes deeper, busting apart tendons and layers of muscle, the skin splitting clean.  “You’re going to tell me where you’ve put it, or I’m going to cut your head off and find it myself.”

Camille laughs sharply. “You wouldn’t, my love.”

She leans up and presses a cold kiss to his cheek.

Magnus thinks of Rafael shaking in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder, his tiny heart panicking against Magnus’s broader chest. How his own arms had tried to hold him close enough to fix everything with only the act. He thinks of how this monster had hurt someone so small, so vulnerable, a child and one that Magnus is supposed to _protect_. Rafael, with all his carefully placed love, all his sensitivities, all the trust he’d finally started to place in Magnus.

He wants to finish the cut. Decapitate her and watch her head roll across the floor. Magnus’s hand shakes as he holds himself back, angrier than he has ever been in four-hundred years.

Instead, he takes a deep breath.

Alexander has told him more than once how eager the Clave is to take Max away from him.  They don’t think a Shadowhunter should be demoralized by raising a Downworlder.  They think their worlds should be separate, had believed it strongly enough to continually take Max away from Alec and send him to his abusive mother, back and forth for four long years, despite knowing full well she wasn’t a fit parent. It had taken absolute _proof_ of the abuse to force the Clave’s hand and let Alec keep Max.

If the Clave found out that Alec was seeing a murderer - someone who had slain the prior leader of the New York vampires - he’d lose Max for sure, and it would be _Magnus’s_ fault.

He keeps that thought in his head, chanting it over and over, _Alexander will lose Max if I kill her_ ; but his magic sinks further into Camille’s neck, anger threatening to spill over.  It feels like an explosion inside him that never fully expands as he fights to keep it in, keep himself together.

“So _morbid_ , dear,” Camille says, flicking her eyes up at him. She grins, sudden and predatory. “Would you like to know what I said to him?”  

Magnus glares, feeling his magic strike through him. There isn’t _time_ for this.  But Camille keeps speaking, and Magnus won’t prolong it but asking her stop; he knows doing so will only cause her to make him wait longer.

“It’s nothing all too deleterious.  I only told him how dangerous you are, how you wanted to play with his brother like a fun new toy, that you’re using his father to gain power in the Clave…” She feigns an expression of surprise, mouth forming an ‘O’ as if she’d merely forgotten some small detail. “Oh, and I _may_ have mentioned something about his own imminent death and the likelihood that he’ll fade from your mind, forgotten like the pointless rodent he is.”

Magnus’s resolve cracks.  He snaps his free hand to her neck, wrapping tight fingers around it. He squeezes, sinking his nails into the open wound of her throat.  She only grins wider.

Camille had utterly ruined him, all those years ago. He'd been stuck on a path of passionless functioning for decades, until the day Alexander came into his life. He hadn’t even _done_ anything, had only been standing in the lobby of his school, but Magnus’ heart had lit up like an entire galaxy. He’d wanted to _try_ again. Then he’d gotten to know Max, had fallen so completely in love it felt like drowning, and now he’s tripped right back into it with Rafael. They had saved him; they'd given him the will to live again. They'd filled all the emptiness in Magnus with stars, with planets, with black holes and let out feelings he'd forgotten existed inside him.

 _No one_ is going to hurt them. Not ever again.

Magnus squeezes Camille’s neck, letting the cords of her throat snap under his hand.

“At first, I’d hoped to turn him against you,” she says, words not strained at all despite his hand crushing her windpipe, “but he’s just as delusional as you are.”  

Control collapsing further, Magnus slams her back against the wall, hand still clutching her neck.

Camille studies his enraged face, the tight lines down his throat. She looks unaffected, bored even. “Sweetheart.” She raises her brow.  “You can’t _honestly_ think you love those people.”

“You wouldn’t know love if it bit you in the ass,” he snaps.

She licks her lips. “Thinking about my ass, dear?”

Magnus picks her up off the floor with the hand at her throat, dragging her forcefully up the wall. He lets her skull and back grind into the wood, sinking her frame into the wall. She grins, but before she can reply with some other inane innuendo, he speaks.

“ _The_ _blood_ , Camille.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” She sighs. “You can have it, Magnus.  You managed to foil our plot, didn’t you?” She smiles down at him. “What could I _ever_ need him for now?”

Magnus sinks his nails into her neck, carving black bloodless craters through her pale skin. “I don’t know what you were trying to do, but if you go near him again,” he keeps his tone even, threatening in its simplicity, “I _will_ kill you.”

Camille reaches down between her breasts and pulls out a small glass vial.  She holds it out to him, smiling. It dangles on a thin chain. “So much fuss over a few drops of Shadowhunter blood.”

As soon as Magnus has it, he drops Camille, worried he’d take her head off if he held on any longer.

“And for the record?” She looks him up and down. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know? You’re right.” He widens his eyes at her.  “There are worse fates than death for an immortal.”

She laughs. “The Vampires would—”

“You don’t understand,” Magnus says, flattening his expression and slipping the chain over his neck.  He snaps a portal open, half turned to step inside. “I love him like he’s my own.  I’d put him above anything.  I don’t care if it starts a war, if it pisses off the poor Vampires who are still loyal to you, if it loses me my position as High Warlock. If you ever come near Rafael again,” he smiles at her, dark and stretching, his cat eyes gleaming an unearthly green, “I am going to _ruin_ you.”

Magnus steps through the portal without looking back.

 

* * *

 

Alec tugs his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around the room.  He grips the phone at his ear, his heart hammering against his ribs, sharp and frantic. The line beeps to let Alec leave a message. He's already left three. “ _Fuck_ ,” he snaps as he crushes the ‘end call’ button with his thumb.

Alec fists his hand around his phone as he drops it down to his side. He turns sharply on his heels to look at his sister, frantic, eyes lit with uncertainty and a fear he's never felt.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Alec,” Izzy says, standing next to Clary, who’s sitting on the couch.

Max and Rafael are asleep on it, lying down beside each other. Clary is sitting near their heads. Raf had passed out the moment Alec had set him on the couch, and Max had been asleep since they’d come through the portal from Magnus’ loft.

“It’s just... how could he just _leave_ like that?” Alec drags a hand through his hair again, tugging it up in the back.

“I don’t know,” Clary says, her gaze gentle as she watches him begin to pace across the room, “Maybe he had something really important to do and—”

“He should’ve told me!” Alec cuts her off in a near-shout. He turns on his heels, pacing in the other direction.

“Alec,” Izzy says, “you need to calm down.”

Alec’s eyes widen, staring at his sister with unrestrained panic. “What if he gets hurt?” He speaks with his hands, waving them aimlessly in front of him as he walks across the room, “And I don’t know where to find him?”

Clary raises a brow at Alec. She has a hand in Max’s hair, playing with it absently. “We _are_ talking about Magnus Bane, right? The eight-hundred-year-old High Warlock?” She tilts her head, regarding Alec with kind eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“If he thinks this is okay- if he thinks he can just _leave me behind_ -” Alec turns to pace in the other direction again, hand now rubbing absently against the back of his skull. He feels clammy and stiff, his shoulders are locked and every few seconds he breathes in sharply through his nose.  

Izzy steps away from the couch and into the path he’s wearing into the floor. “ _Alec_.” She puts hand on Alec’s shoulder, bringing him to a stop. “He’s okay.”

Alec’s shoulders slump, though no tension leaves him. “Why’d he just _leave_ , Iz?” He hears the hoarseness of his own voice, his fear causing this throat to contract.

“I don’t know,” she says, taking his hands before he can tug at his hair again, “But he loves you guys. Okay?  He just…”

“I was right there,” Alec’s eyes dart back and forth as they search Izzy’s, then the wall behind her, “All three of us were right there.”  

“I know, mi hermano.”

“Does he think he has to do this alone?” Alec sounds like he’s asking himself, thinking out loud, something he only ever does around Izzy and Jace.

Alec watches his sister’s eyes trail down to his mouth, which he realizes has settled into a deep frown. There's a flicker of something there, on her face, and Alec recognizes it as his own distressed expression. After a moment, her jaw clenches and she straightens up; leave it to Izzy to be the one who can pull it together.

“Alec,” Clary says from the couch. Izzy turns to face her wife, Alec’s gaze going to Clary as well. “Why don’t you go look for him?”

Alec’s eyes are unblinking; wide and afraid and helpless. “He could be anywhere.” His hands tense around Izzy’s, twitching with coursing fear. “ _Anywhere_.” His words comes out in a dry rasp.

Izzy squeezes his hands, looking sadly at him. “Big brother…”

“You should go,” Clary says, leveling her gaze. “I know you, Alec. You’ll feel better if you’re out doing something.”

Izzy smiles at Clary, then looks back at her brother. “She’s right.” She nods at Alec. “Start at the Seelie Realm.  Maybe he went back there.”

Alec looks between his sister and Clary, then at Max and Raf on the couch. “But…”

“We’ve got them.” Izzy squeezes his hands again. “We’ll put them to bed.”

“And if Magnus comes back here, we’ll call you,” Clary says. “Okay?”

Alec sighs, giving them a nod of thanks. He sets a kiss Max and Rafael’s sleeping heads before practically running out the door.

 

* * *

 

Magnus bursts through the portal and arrives on the doorstep of Ragnor’s cottage, purple magic trailing behind him as he breaks free from it.  He dials Alec’s number now that he has the vial of blood and is free of Camille’s godforsaken manor, eager to hear his voice and explain what’s going on. Instead of Alexander’s deep, sultry voice, however, he gets the irritating beep of a busy line. Who the _hell_ could he be calling at a time like this?

Magnus puts his phone back into his pocket as he lets himself into the cottage and enters Ragnor’s workroom.

He may have his hands on the vial of blood that gives the curse power, but the curse is still working its way through Rafael’s bloodstream, continuing to poison him. He won’t have to worry about Camille making any surprise appearances in the Institute while he figures the rest of this out, but Rafael is still in trouble.

Magnus knows there’s a potion that can pause the curse’s effects while he comes up with a way to break it, but for the life of him can’t recall what its name is. Only that it’s blue and Ragnor keeps it in a funny looking bottle.

Whatever the potion is called, it places the drinker under a stasis, ensuring no continuation of any existing condition. It won’t lift the curse, but it _will_ pause its effects, giving Magnus the time he needs to clear Rafael’s blood of the magic, and giving Rafael some much needed peace. If he can get the potion to Raf, it should buy him the time he needs. He knows the magic Allison would have used would be cruel and toxic and wants to lift it as soon as possible.

He races through Ragnor’s workshop, sifting hurriedly with his eyes and hands over shelves and desks, trying to find the bright blue potion as quickly as possible.

“What on _Earth_ are you doing?” Ragnor’s irritated voice pierces the room.

Magnus doesn’t pause his search. “No time, Ragnor,” he says, pushing a row of dark green potions out of the way, “Where the hell is this damned potion?!”

Ragnor’s eyes probably widen, but Magnus doesn’t look away from the shelf he’s rifling through.

“What potion? What do you need it for?” Magnus ignores him, knocking over vials of other potions in search for the one he desperately needs. “ _Magnus!_ ”

“Ragnor,” he huffs, he squeezes his eyes shut. His time would be more well spent if Ragnor was helping him find the potion, and to do that, he needs to stop and explain. Preferably in as few words as possible. He feels his eyebrows lifting as his voice grows snappy, “I need you to shut up and help me. Camille used blood magic and put a curse on Rafael.” Magnus knows Ragnor is about to interject here with a hundred questions, knows he’d be perfectly defensive over Rafael, but there’s no time - Magnus keeps talking, “I’ve only just figured this out tonight, so the curse has been in his system for too long already. I need to pause the curse while I figure out the best way to remove it and I know you have a potion that does just that.”

Ragnor makes an indignant, disbelieving grunt, then snaps his fingers.  The blue potion appears in his hands.  “Here—”

“Ha! The _Stasis_ potion - I knew it was something like that.” Magnus hurries towards him and grasps the tall flask. He turns, meaning to snap himself a portal immediately, but Ragnor stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Magnus,” brown eyes search his methodically, trying to pull the information from them,  “How long has it been?Blood magic is extremely potent and dangerous _._ The most powerful of Downworlders have been known to succumb within _days_.”

Magnus feels his stomach plummet as realization hit. It had been _weeks_ since the day at the shop; the curse has likely almost entirely taken over Rafael by now.

Until he gets this potion to Rafael, the curse can still grow inside him, can continue to corrupt his mind and body, piece by piece, until there’s no way for him to find his way back.

Magnus _needs_ to hurry.

“I don’t have time to discuss this.” Magnus snaps the portal just behind him.

“Your magic is getting low, my friend.” Ragnor grips his arm tighter.  “I can come with you.”

Magnus smiles wryly at him.  “You always underestimate me, Ragnor,” he says, lying though he knows Ragnor will know it.

Without another word, Magnus hurries through the portal.

He steps out the other side and into Rafael’s bedroom, a bright flash of purple filling the room with light.

Rafael blinks awake, and he struggles to sit straight up in bed when he sees Magnus.  

“Magnus!” His eyes are heartbreakingly bloodshot, bags under them heavy and dark. Rafael is still very much in danger. The symptoms of the curse are so painfully obvious now Magnus hates himself for not noticing on his own, sooner.

He sits on the edge of his bed carefully, turning to face Alec’s son.

“Rafael,” he says, holding the potion out towards him, “I need you to drink this.” Magnus’s heart is pounding, the vivid sense of urgency bleeding through to his words.

Rafael’s mouth hangs open, a question on it. “ _Please-_ ” Magnus chokes out, sliding the potion into his small hands, “Rafael, I’d _never_ —”

Rafael looks at him, and the intensity of the gaze silences Magnus.  He searches every corner of every bend of reflected light in Magnus’s dark eyes, staring into the heart of him as only Alexander’s children seem to be able to.  He’s unafraid, Magnus can feel how calm he is, though his pupils dart around in Magnus’s gaze.

Then Rafael nods, once – and downs the whole potion.

Magnus feels relief bloom inside his body, cool and yet heavy in its all-encompassing presence, after over an hour of panic.

At least with this, the curse’s effects are on hold.  It can no longer wear deeper paths into Rafael’s psyche, drain more energy from him.  And with the vial in Magnus’s possession, Camille can no longer use it to manifest herself, though Magnus isn’t sure whether she can still use her power from her manor to get inside Rafael’s head or not. He isn’t willing to find out.

He swallows. Now he just needs Rafael to hold on until he can completely break the curse later this evening.

“What is it?” Rafael asks, staring at the empty glass bottle.

Magnus slides fully onto the small bed, setting his back along the wall behind him and resting there.  Knowing Rafael’s preference for personal space, he sets himself near the foot of the bed, leaving a generous space between them. Normally Magnus wouldn’t sit at a time like this – curse on hold or not, he still wants to break it – but he needs a minute to breathe.  Just a minute.

And Rafael deserves to know what’s going on.

“It’s a Stasis potion,” Magnus says, turning his head still rested at the wall to look at Rafael, “It’s going to stop the curse from worsening for a few days.”

Rafael looks at Magnus for a moment, then down at his shirt, where the mark is hidden. “I—”

“A curse?” A small voice from the doorway cuts Rafael off.  Max is standing there, his favourite plush cat clutched to his chest, hair stuck up in a million different directions.  “Is Raf okay?”

“Come here, Max,” Magnus says, heart willing the words while his hand pats the space on the bed between him and Rafael.

But Max crawls right into Magnus’s lap, sitting on one leg of a partially bent knee.  Magnus smiles at him, small but fond, and sets a hand on Max’s back.

“Where’s Dad?” Max asks, the side of his head pressed against Magnus’s chest.

Magnus starts, looking at Rafael. “Alexander isn’t here?”

Rafael shakes his head. “Aunt Izzy said he went looking for you.”

Magnus’s eyes widen a fraction.  Alec left Max and Rafael here? Left them wondering where their father was?  In Rafael’s current state?

 _Alec still doesn’t know_ , Magnus realizes with a rush.  He’d never managed to get him on the phone, and Rafael must not have told him...  Otherwise there was no way Alec would have left.

Magnus digs his phone out of his pocket, putting it on speaker phone and dialling Alexander.  He holds it out so both boys can see.

The line beeps yet again, indicating Alec is - unbelievably - still on the phone, or on it once again.

“Who could he be calling?” Magnus asks out loud, wondering it for the second time.

“But, that means he’s alright,” Rafael says, staring at the phone until Magnus clicks it off. “Right?” He looks up at Magnus.

“He’s fine,” Magnus says. He reaches a hand out to hold Rafael’s shoulder, intending only some small comfort.

But Rafael crawls right into his lap, just as his brother had.  He sits next to Max, on Magnus’s other leg.  Reaching over his shoulder, Rafael takes one of Magnus’s hands and wraps his arm around himself.

Magnus is shocked, for a moment.  Rafael is, like Alec, very private. Magnus hardly ever sees anyone being physically affectionate with him.  He’d assumed the confession from earlier that night had simply necessitated contact—anyone would need to be held while under so much stress.

It feels right, though. With both of them in his arms, Magnus’s heart settles into place.  He draws them in close.

Rafael hides his face in Magnus’s chest.  If he’s crying, Magnus isn’t about to draw any notice to it.

“He’s alright, you two.” Magnus rubs at Rafael’s back and kisses the top of Max’s head.  “I promise.”  Neither of them speak, and Magnus is overcome by the need to give them some sort of security.  He can hear the subtle panic in his own voice. “Here,” he picks his phone up off the bed, “I’ll send him a text, and when he’s done talking, he’ll reply.”  Magnus types and sends it.

“I’m sorry,” Rafael says into the soft fabric of his suit, voice weak.

Magnus’s heart sinks to his stomach. He sets the phone back on the mattress, running a hand through black hair and kissing the top of his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rafael.”  Magnus kisses his hair again, speaking into it. “Camille is after me.  If anything, this is my fault.”

Rafael shakes his head sluggishly, forehead rubbing against Magnus’s shirt.

“What happened to Raf?” Max asks, looking away from his brother and up at Magnus.

Magnus breathes out slowly, slightly perturbed and fully upset.  This is not a conversation he should need to have with such young children. With two boys he’d silently sworn to protect from the world. With _Alexander’s_ children.  All he wants for them is the easy joys of childhood.  Lazy Sunday mornings spent making breakfast, the excitement of staying up late on Friday nights, the joy of friends over for sleepovers. These are all things Magnus never had as a child; he wants more for Rafael and Max.

He rubs at Max’s back as he begins to speak. “The curse Camille and Allison have placed you under, Rafael, is an ancient magic.” Rafael’s head lifts from Magnus’s chest, searching his face.  Magnus regards him professionally, securely, has to or he’s certain he’ll break apart.  

“They infected your blood with the pendant, which allows the curse to gradually drive you mad, both magically with a poison from the necklace _and_ with Camille’s power to get inside your head.” Magnus rubs at Max’s back again who, out of the two of them, looks the most afraid – but Magnus is sure to keep his eyes met with brown ones.

“They took some of your infected blood in this vial,” he points to it on his chest with the arm wrapped around Rafael, “to control you and track you. That’s how they got to you at the wedding, they used your blood to trick the wards.” Magnus swallows, trying to keep his voice even.

“They used blood magic because it’s nearly undetectable.” Magnus continues to rub at Max’s back.  The small weight of him is comforting, the steady stream of shared magic calming. “They wanted to trick you into thinking I would hurt Max—”

Rafael goes stiff, eyes completely still. Tiny fingers dig into Magnus’s waist.

“—but they couldn’t. You were too strong.” Magnus makes sure their eyes lock, makes sure Rafael _really_ hears him. “So in the end, they used the vial to force you.”

Magnus runs hair around Rafael’s ear, his heart beats painfully slow. “Whatever you thought, whatever information you told Camille, you were not in total control of yourself.  Do you understand?”

Rafael’s lips press together, his jawline and shoulders stiff.  Water begins to gather in his eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

“You need to stop saying that, angel.” Magnus feels water gathering in his own eyes—and he’s smiling, so entirely charmed by Rafael, by both of them, and so exhausted from depleted magic he doesn’t know what to do, can’t hold himself together.

“I love you two," Magnus swallows thickly, voice rasped, "do you know that?”

Both of Alexander’s children look up at him, neither one surprised.  Max grins and hugs at his torso, saying, “We love you, too!” with all the joy and ease unexpected of him, given his past.  It reminds Magnus of everything Alec has given Max.  Love, a home, a chance to trust again.  It’s because of Alexander that Max can love Magnus just as much as Magnus loves him.

Rafael stares unblinkingly up at him, studying and searching like always.

He doesn’t say it back, but Magnus doesn’t need to hear it.

“Rafael, the potion I just gave you only stops the curse from spreading further, it doesn’t make it better. I think the best thing to do is to use a spell to help you sleep for a few days while I can sort this out and get rid of the curse.” Brown eyes widen. Magnus runs fingers around his ear, keeps his tone steady and calm.

“Your mind and your body have been through a lot in the past few weeks, and cleansing your blood of the poison will take even more of your energy - if you’re sleeping, your body can build a bit of your strength back up so you’ll heal faster.”

“And," Magnus sighs, this next part will be the toughest part to say out loud, "the magic I need to use to get rid of the curse is painful.  The process of your blood cleansing itself afterward is far worse.” Magnus doesn’t want him in any pain, and hopes Rafael will understand that.

“Okay,” Rafael says, too sure for a child, nodding once.

Magnus’ eyes are pricking with tears from the weight of Rafael’s trust, and they flicker between his feline form and the glamoured brown ones Rafael is more familiar with.  He swallows, trying to reorient himself.

“But,” Magnus reaches for his phone again, “We should call your father first, and let him know…” He shifts a little, his legs are tingling from the unaccustomed weight of the boys.

The potion was one thing. Magnus absolutely _needed_ to get it to Rafael to pause the growth of the curse; there wasn’t enough time to call Alexander and explain everything, to ask him if it was okay to give his son a fairly potent elixir.  But this is a little different, this is a long-term spell that will place Rafael in what amounts to a coma, and Magnus has a few minutes to spare now while Raf appears to be somewhat stable.  He should at the very least _tell_ Alec he’s about to do it.

But when he picks his phone up there’s still no reply to his earlier text, and when he tries to call Alec once more, the line beeps again.

Magnus frowns at the phone.

“Still busy?” Rafael asks. The little Shadowhunter looks absolutely haunted and sickly, tonight’s events must have taken so much of what little energy he has left.

Magnus nods.  He sets his phone back down on the bed, then looks at both kids.

He has to believe that Alec would want him to act, and to act now. There’s simply no better choice.

“I’m still going to perform the spell,” he says, “Normally we wouldn’t do so without telling your father, but we absolutely have to get this curse off of you, Rafael.”  

Magnus looks down to find Rafael studying him. His little eyes are striped with swollen veins and brown cheeks are red with long-dried tears, but he still looks impossibly adorable to Magnus as he pouts. “You look tired,” Rafael says, “And you _always_ tell Max not to overdo it. Are you sure you should be using magic?”

Magnus looks at him, mouth open slightly; then he shakes the shock off.  He runs fingers around Rafael’s ear, thinking he’s so _unbelievably_ like Alexander.

“You don’t need to worry about that with me,” Magnus says, keeping his voice quiet, “I want to prevent as much pain as possible, as soon as possible. You’re my priority right now, angel.”

“But...”

“Rafael.” Magnus says sternly, hardening his gaze enough to imply there’s no room for discussion, but not enough to appear upset or angry. “I know I’m not your father, but I’m putting my foot down.”

Rafael frowns up at him.

Max looks at his brother, reaching out to take his hands. “You can trust Magnus, Raf.”

“I _know_.” He scowls at Max, but holds his hands back. “I do.”  He looks up at Magnus, and nods. “Okay.”

Magnus wraps his arms around both kids, leaning back further against the wall so Max and Rafael can lie down along his chest. 

“I’m going to start, alright?” Magnus says, words blowing Rafael’s black hair around, “You’ll feel warm, then sleepy, and the next thing you know you’ll be waking up in your bed with your father standing over you.”

“You’ll be there too, right?” Rafael asks.

Magnus could cry.  He’s delirious with exhaustion and a boundless love for the two small children bundled in his arms.  He rubs at Max and Rafael’s backs, closing his eyes.

It’s too soon, Magnus is sure, for him to feel like he’s becoming their father.  Alexander probably doesn’t see it that way.  He can’t, not after only two months.

But Magnus does.

“Yes, I’ll be there, too,” he says, voice weaker than he’d intended.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Magnus manages a weak smile; he’d bring the sun to the earth if Rafael needed him to. “Ready?”

Rafael nods, his hands finding his brother’s once again.

Magnus sends three slow, careful waves of magic through him.  Rafael’s expression gives way to something groggy, his gaze turning mindless before his eyes close in a few slow blinks.  He exhales as his head rolls on Magnus’s chest, the outward breath stretched long, full of all the anxiety that has been festering inside him for weeks.

Magnus plays with his hair, sending a few more warm pulses of magic through him.  He wants to be sure Rafael is completely asleep, of course, and that’s why he sends them. But sharing magic is something usually done only between family.

Magnus sends one last wave of magic through Rafael, just because he loves him.

When they’re both asleep he tucks them into Rafael’s bed.  He gives them a gentle kiss on their temples, letting his magic flow through both of them this time.  Then he creates a portal back to his apartment to get started on breaking the curse, dialling Alexander’s number once again.

 

* * *

 

Alec breathes heavily into his phone, his heart racing.  As soon as the line connects he asks, “Is this Ragnor Fell?”

“Yes. Who—”

“This is Alec Lightwood,” Alec says too fast, breathless, “Have you seen Magnus? There was an attack in the Seelie Realm and he left and I—” Alec runs a hand through his hair, turning in a semi-circle as if he might see Magnus on the street in the middle of the night. “I don’t know where he is.”  

He knows he sounds scared. He knows it’s not a good move, as the head of the Institute, to sound so vulnerable.  But he’s worried beyond control.  Something’s going on with Rafael, his eyes were bloodshot and wild and he wouldn’t talk to Alec, and Magnus just fucking _vanished_.

“He flew through here about half an hour ago like a frightened deer.” Ragnor sounds irritated.

Alec lets out a shaky breath—at least Ragnor had seen him.  At least Magnus is okay; or was, only minutes ago.

“He took a stasis potion with him - it should stop the curse from progressing any further, for now.. Typically, it is used to pause poison or sickness until a cure can be acquired and should last about three days. Magnus may have his head in the clouds half the time, but he’ll fix this before the three days are up, don’t worry.”

Alec’s head and chest go frigid, like he’d been smacked in the front with a block of ice.  Poison, curse, potions.  What the _hell_ is going on?

Alec’s head spins. “Do you know where he is now?”

“I expect – _hope_ – he is in his flat,” Ragnor says, “Warlocks inevitably return to their lair when they’ve exhausted their energy… Alec, he’s used far too much magic today.  If you can’t go check on him, then I certainly will, but that blithering idiot needs one of us to make sure he’s not passed out on the floor.”

Alec heaves air into his lungs, trying to quell mounting panic.  He remembers all too easily what drained magic had done to Max. “I’m on it,” he says, already turning to sprint towards Magnus’s apartment.

“Thank you, Alec. Give him a good swift kick for me.”

Alec hangs up and runs. He races from the entrance to the Seelie Realm, where he’d first gone looking for Magnus, all the way to his building.

He’s shocked that he’s panting by the time he gets to the loft. It’s been years since he’s had to run fast enough to tire himself out.

Alec takes the stairs two at a time and throws the familiar dark wooden door open, urgency surging through his veins and his voice. “ _Magnus_!”

Magnus’s frame fills Alec’s eyes and with it comes relief, cool and calming. He’s there. He finds breaths that have been lost to him for well over an hour.

Magnus is bent over a worktable he must have conjured up in the middle of his living room, his eyes and fingers darting over a massive, ancient-looking book.  He jumps visibly when the door slams shut behind Alec, and quickly stumbles to his feet.

“Magnus,” Alec whispers it this time, something akin to a hiss, using the name like an anchor, “What the _hell_ is go—”

But as Magnus steps from the table, his knees fold, flimsy and weak.  The sight is so contrary to what Alec has learned to associate with Magnus that he almost doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.  Alec is racing towards him without a thought, catching Magnus by the waist before he can crash to the floor.

“ _Magnus_ ,” Alec says for the third time, but now with a stronger fear.  He has Magnus pressed between the worktable and Alec’s body.

Staring almost dreamily up at Alec, Magnus reaches up and touches at his cheeks. “It’s okay, darling.” His eyes glamour and flicker back to a cat’s again, magic fritzing out. “I always swoon for you.”

“How much magic have you used tonight?” Alec asks, ignoring the joke and searching Magnus’s flickering eyes.

“I’m alright.” Magnus waves a hand languidly beside them, but it lacks his usual décorum.

Alec frowns, lips pursed shut.  “Magnus, _how much magic did you use tonight_?”

Magnus searches his face, his mouth parted in wonder, and the hand moves from his cheek down towards Alec’s jaw. “You’re angry,” he says.

Alec only frowns harder.

Pliant fingers move across Alec’s jaw line, then shift to lie flat. “Alexander…”

“ _Don’t_.” Magnus’s hand freezes, but it doesn’t leave Alec’s cheek.

Alec is too angry to let Magnus distract him. No, angry isn’t a strong enough word. He’s _furious_ because Magnus had literally disappeared into thin air, with no way for Alec to find him. What had Alec done, or _not_ done, to make Magnus think he has to handle things on his own?

He’s _pissed_ that Magnus had put himself in some sort of danger – though Alec still doesn’t know what kind – and he can’t help but feel Magnus has a responsibility to Max and Rafael to keep himself safe.

Max and Rafael absolutely _love_ Magnus, and if anything ever happened to him, they wouldn’t be alright.

And neither would Alec.

“Alec,” Magnus’s voice is soft, and has an oddly transparent quality to it.

Alec looks down at him.  There are dark bags under Magnus’s eyes; the eyes themselves are cloudy and muted, as if all the life has been pulled from them, their usual vivacity gone.  His bronze skin is dull, and the muscles under Alec’s palms are too pliant. Alec takes a deep breath, then lets some tension run off his shoulders.

“You need to rest for a few minutes.” He looks like he’s been to hell and back, only literally.

“No— you don’t understand.” Magnus starts to fidget in his arms like he’s trying to stand on his own. “I’ve got to finish this spell.”

“ _Why_?” Alec grips his waist to keep him still, frowning as he searches dark eyes for an answer.

Magnus opens his mouth to start explaining, then closes it; redirecting his approach he opens his mouth again, but once more, he shuts it.

Magnus groans, “Here,” and sets soft fingers on Alec’s temple. “It’s too much to explain. Ready?”

“No.” Alec glowers, stopping Magnus’s spell by holding his wrist.

Magnus slips his hand out of his grasp. “It’s fine, Alec. It’s an easy spell.” Alec’s frown deepens. “You need to know what’s happening.” Magnus moves to set his fingers on Alec’s temple again and meets his eyes. “Rafael needs you to know.”

“So _tell_ me,” Alec snaps.

Magnus shakes his head. “It would honestly take me more energy to explain it than just show you. Alright?”

Alec frowns again, but he doesn’t stop Magnus this time.  He tightens his hold on Magnus waist though, as Magnus sends the spell into his head.

Suddenly Alec’s mind fills with vibrant, unfamiliar images. He sees Rafael confiding the terrifying interactions with Camille to Magnus, and Alec’s heart skips.  He hadn’t thought, not for a second, that anything like that was happening. Raf had seemed distracted, not _depressed._ Anxious and uncertain, not afraid.  

He feels like a failure instantly, like he’d let Rafael down again.  It’s been weeks since he disappeared at the shop. He’s been in pain all this time— Alec hadn’t done enough _again—_

Next, Magnus is clutching Camille Belcourt in a choke-hold and taking the vial, and strangely enough he can hear Magnus’s voice in his head detailing the importance of the vial even though no one is speaking. It takes Alec a moment before he understands that the spell allows him to hear what Magnus was thinking, too.

The last scene he’s gifted is of Magnus’s visit to Ragnor and details about the stasis potion.

“Woah,” Alec says, holding his head for a moment, trying to catch his own thoughts up to the ones Magnus had shared. Alec’s never felt anything like this.  The sudden onslaught of information rushing into his head, making it seem as if he’d been there with Magnus the whole time.

Magnus grimaces slightly. “Sorry.”

When Alec has pulled himself together, he looks at Magnus, heart beating too fast. “Raf’s okay?” He seemed to be in the thoughts Magnus had shared, but Alec needs to hear it.

“For the moment. The potion will keep the curse at bay.”

Alec lets out a breath. He’s about to thank Magnus, despite being upset with him, but another one of the memories he’d shared with Alec leaps to the forefront of his mind instead.

“You went after Camille _alone_.” Alec glares.

Magnus doesn’t look sheepish, he just looks resigned. “I had to.”

“You—” Alec wants to scream. “ _Why_?”

Magnus opens his mouth to reply, but then says nothing.  Alec wants to push it.  What had Magnus been thinking?  He could’ve brought Alec, or even Izzy, Clary, Jace—anyone.  Any of them would’ve gone with him.

Alec has felt like they were— like they’re _partners_ , every definition of the word, from working together to _being_ together.  He’s sure Magnus can feel it too.  They’re nearly co-parenting, Rafael had clung to him and sobbed and doesn’t do that with anyone but Alec and Max wants to call him ‘Papa’ for _fuck’s_ sake, so why had Magnus tossed Alec out of the equation so easily?

He wants to ask, needs to.  They need to talk about _all_ of this. But the tired lines of Magnus’s face fill Alec’s vision.  His eyes shift sporadically again, and he sways unsteady in Alec’s arms.

Alec lets out a deep breath. They’ll have to talk about it later. Right now, his priority needs to be to convince Magnus to rest.

“Come on,” Alec says, moving to stand beside him, holding him up with one arm. “You need to sit down.”

“ _No_. Alec, there are still things you don’t know.”

Alec regards him sternly.  “You’re sitting down first, _then_ we can talk.” Magnus opens his mouth to argue, but Alec cuts him off. “No.”

It looks for a moment like Magnus is about to protest again, but he sways in Alec’s hold and his eyes lose their focus and no reply comes from him.  
  
Alec bends down to hook his other arm under the back of Magnus’s knees and lifts him up. It's reactionary - the efficient, tactical part of him taking over. It’s just the quickest, most efficient manner to get Magnus to sit down; Alec doesn’t let himself overthink it.

He carries Magnus over to the couch. The action generates an undignified huff from Magnus, but Alec is too distracted by how frail Magnus is under the arm Alec has wrapped around his back. He sits down, setting Magnus down to sit beside him.  

Alec presses their sides together, wanting to support Magnus’ frame. Alec would rather have Magnus lying down in his bed, but he knows Magnus won’t consider really resting until he’s told Alec everything he thinks he needs to know.

“Why didn’t Raf tell us sooner?” Alec asks after a minute of quiet, looking at Magnus a little sadly.

Magnus looks away, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Magic is complex.  He couldn’t tell us until he was strong enough to fight it,” he says, quiet and angry all at once.  “And,” dark, glassy eyes look at him, nothing but self-loathing floating inside, “he was trying to protect me.”

Alec stares with parted lips for a moment. “From what?”

“Camille,” Magnus says.

Though that’s all he says, Alec knows Magnus is blaming himself.  He smooths a hand along Magnus’s side, setting it down firmly when he finds his hip. His other hand reaches across and rests just above Magnus’s knee. “None of this is your fault,” Alec says, keeping his voice steady and as full of gravitas as he can manage with his heart hanging so heavy.

But Magnus doesn’t seem to hear him.  He looks towards the wall, distracted for a moment. “He’s been living like this for weeks. I can’t- I won’t let it go on any longer.”

“Magnus.” Alec grips at his knee and waits until dark eyes are back on him. “It’s not your fault.”

Again, Magnus doesn’t seem to hear him. What he says next hits Alec like a slap in the face. “You need to know - the stasis potion only lasts for seventy-two hours. After that, the curse could continue to grow. And…” Magnus swallows. “Right before I left, I placed Rafael under a spell that is essentially the equivalent of a coma.”

“ _What?_ ” Alec chokes out in surprise.  The memories Magnus had shared hadn’t included that bit of information.

“I tried to call you,” Magnus says quickly, searching hazel eyes, “but your phone was busy.” Alec had been on it a few times, calling Luke and Raphael and anyone else who might know Magnus’s whereabouts. “I left a text too—but you never replied,” – Alec hadn’t seen any, but he’s always been prone to missing them, especially when he’s busy, and he’d been pretty preoccupied with searching the Seelie Realm for Magnus – “I… I was trying to do the right thing, Alexander, I swear.” Magnus hurries through the apology, gripping at Alec’s hand on his knee. “I’d _never_ hurt them.”

Alec frowns, confused and worried that Magnus feels like he'd need to say that, and to say it so earnestly, as if he’s actually scared Alec might not believe him.    

“I know you wouldn’t,” Alec says, turning his hand over on Magnus’s knee to set theirs palm-to-palm. “You don’t…” He doesn’t know how to say this, how to tell Magnus that Alec understands that magic is as natural to him as breathing—that Alec doesn’t see it as something dirty or inherently dangerous.  He wants Magnus to know that using it on Rafael is no different than using it on Max.  He wants Magnus to know that Alec doesn’t see it like some Shadowhunters might. “You don’t need to check with me,” Alec says, threading their fingers together, “They trust you. _I_ trust you.”

Magnus smiles, but it wavers in his fatigue.  Alec shifts closer to him, and wraps his arm tighter around his back.  He leans to the side slightly, hoping Magnus will take the hint. “The potion lasts three days?”

Magnus does take the hint, leaning into Alec and resting against his side. The warmth of him nearly swallows Alec whole.

“It will probably take two just for his blood to finish cleansing itself, once I lift the curse… So we don’t have much time. I need to get back to work on reversing it,” Magnus says, his breath slipping sparsely along Alec’s ear and neck.

Alec thinks for a beat. “Then…” He squints one eye down towards Magnus. “You have time to rest for a few hours.”

Magnus shakes his head, but stays pressed against Alec. “I want that magic out of him as soon as possible.” His voice is strained. “As long as he’s cursed, his blood is still poisoned. It will continue to weaken him and absorb every ounce of mental and physical strength it can find. That’s why I put him to sleep; so his mind and body could rest and try to recover a bit.”

Magnus shifts to try and stand up, but Alec presses his fingers deeper into Magnus’s waist, locking him in place.  

“Magnus…”

“I’m _fine_ , Alec.”

Alec cannot believe the man beside him.  He grips at Magnus’s waist again, a little out of annoyance, mostly out of concern.  

“Max and Rafael are safe at the Institute.”  Alec tugs him in closer, and lowers his words to a whisper. “You _need_ to rest.”

“This curse has been _tormenting_ Rafael.”  Magnus’s tone is heavy, laden with fearful distress.  He tries to get up again but the action has Magnus nearly falling sideways. Alec holds him steady and safely on the couch cushions. “I need to lift it.”

“Magnus,” Alec sighs, “you’re _exhausted_.” His eyes glamour and de-glamour again.  Alec feels irritation and worry mix in his stomach like a bad drink. “You can’t do any more tonight.”

Magnus looks over at him sadly, like Alec just doesn’t get it, and sets weak fingers on his jaw. “It doesn’t matter that I’m tired-”

Alec grabs his hand and brings it down to his neck, squeezing it in his concern, frustration, and fear, both of them turned to face each other. “Of course it _matters-_ ”

“ _Alexander_.” He tries to argue, but Alec’s full name always seems to carry only affection when Magnus says it. Green eyes look up at him like two planets, pulling Alec into their orbit like they always do.

But the green is still faded in fatigue. His chest is rising and falling with a frailty Alec never would have associated with Magnus.  He can almost see the emptiness of depleted magic yawning through him like a wide, grey sky.

“Magnus,” Alec says, and his words aren’t soft, aren’t coddled or nurturing.  He makes himself sound as upset as he feels, “Be honest. Will Raf be fine if we wait a few hours?”

Magnus sways in his arms again.  Alec shifts to hold him up. “Yes,” he says eventually, “but…”

Alec cuts him off. “Nope.” He pulls on Magnus until Magnus’s head falls to his shoulder, against his side once more, afraid at how weak and pliant his body feels. “You’re about to faint.” Alec’s words crack up high at the end but he’s too worried to feel any embarrassment over it.

“Alexander…” Magnus’s voice is hoarse.  He sounds almost sick. “You can’t do this right now.” Despite his words, he eases down along Alec’s side, resting fully against him.

“I thought you liked it, when I...” He wants to say ‘look after you,’ but Alec isn’t sure if he should. Even though Magnus had confessed all the things he likes about Alec and how Alec treats him, he still can’t get the words out. 

But Magnus seems to understand anyway.

“I do.” Magnus’s muscles constrict with tension.  “But right now, I should at least—”

“Just...” Alec’s head spins and his frustration flares as he searches for more words and can’t find anything other than: “ _Stop_.”

He takes a deep breath.  Magnus is completely rigid against him now.  Alec moves to set his forehead on the side of Magnus’s head, pressing in firmly.  He brings hand up to tug softly through dark hair. “Stop.” His voice is barely audible.

\---

Magnus is silent after that, something in Alexander’s tone makes him stay quiet, makes him listen to his own body for the first time since he’d found out about the curse. He feels Alec shifts so they can both lie against the back of the couch, and Magnus’s heart skips a beat.  But then Alec is pushing him away.

He feels cold without him.  His head is spinning from depleted magic and stress and he can’t seem to think clearly at all. When Magnus looks over, Alexander’s face is a little red. “Lie down,” he says, beckoning with those long fingers of his, entirely distracting for a beat.  He’s moved to the end of the couch, near the arm rest.

Alexander is asking him to lie down _on his lap_.

Magnus flicks his eyes up to hazel ones, grinning. “Really?”

Alexander’s face turns to a full-on blush then, his fingers tightening where they’re lying on the couch. But his voice stays even. “I don’t trust you not to get up again.”

“A fair assumption,” Magnus says, still grinning.  He allows larger hands to guide him down, grateful for their support as the room tilts sideways.  He lies on his back, his head falling to rest on Alexander’s thighs.

They’re warm.  Magnus eases himself down, sighing.  He looks up at Alexander with a smile he’s sure is dopey, between how lightheaded he is with his magic so low and how dizzy he gets around Alec in general. “I _never_ want to move,” Magnus says with a mock-serious expression, as if he’s declaring ownership of some newly discovered land.

Alec deadpans. “After all the arguing it took to get you to rest?”

Magnus grins up at him. “If you had offered your lap as incentive from the start, Alexander, you would’ve gotten me here much quicker.”

Alec rolls his eyes. But Magnus feels his muscles relax, watches his cheeks flare pink. “Just go to sleep.”

“Bossy.” Magnus breathes out his nose, smile shrinking to a smaller one.

“Fine, don’t sleep.” Alec rolls his eyes again.  “Pass out from exhaustion, see if I care.”

Magnus studies him for a moment, trying to gauge if Alexander is too angry for this, or if he’ll snap at Magnus again.  But he throws caution to the wind like he so often does.

He brings a hand up, and sets the tips of his fingers on Alec’s lips, tracing lines he’d kissed only hours ago.

“Impossible to please,” Magnus says in a whisper. The room spins and his head feels dry and hot, the pressure behind his eyes mounting and his whole body limp and weak from over using his magic. But the feeling of Alec under his fingers has Magnus’s whole heart lit up. Has his hand reaching upwards towards his face.

Alexander stares back at him, heat in his eyes from irritation certainly, but also from something more vivid than that.  He’s remembering the kiss too, Magnus is sure.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you,” Alec says. His eyes flutter shut as Magnus’s index finger ghosts along his top lip.

 _Among other things_ , Magnus thinks, holding the sight of Alexander in his gaze. He continues pressing at his round lips with his finger, mesmerized by their fullness, by the memory of them rubbing against his own.

“Magnus,” Alexander says, causing the finger to drop to his bottom lip. His eyes are little dazed as they open. “ _Sleep_.”

Magnus doesn’t respond right away, doesn’t move.  Delirium captures him along with the urge to kiss Alexander again.  “Alec, what’s wrong?” He asks, even though he’s fairly certain he already knows.  Magnus traces his top lip, from one corner to the other. “Talk to me.”

“You…” Alec’s mouth glides along Magnus’s finger as he speaks. “You disappeared, you were just _gone_. I was…” He doesn’t finish.  Magnus watches his throat bob as Alec swallows.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says. He lets his fingers wander to Alexander’s jaw. “I wanted to put a stop to Camille as soon as I could.”

“I know, but….”  Alec takes the hand Magnus has at his jawline and sets it on his neck, placing his own over it. He seems to do it a lot, and Magnus’s heart skips at the thought. “When you just left like that?” Alec’s hazel eyes don’t skirt away and his voice doesn’t falter, and Magnus is caught in them and in him wholly. “You could’ve been anywhere.  You could’ve been in another _dimension,_ for all I knew. I’d have to tell Max and Raf I couldn’t find you, and—”

Magnus’s face pulls up in alert concern. “I’d never——”

“I know,” Alec cuts him off, shaking his head, “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” His lips part, the bottom one trembling only once, only slight.  Alexander moves his free hand from the couch to Magnus’s cheek, tracing it with his index finger. “I trust you,” he says, sounding distant.

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks down at Magnus, gaze unwavering and holding behind it something deeper.

Magnus knows there’s more to it, that there’s something Alexander isn’t saying; but he doesn’t feel in a position to push.

“I’m alright, Alec.” Magnus keeps his voice quiet, keeps the words between them. It comes without a thought, without consideration—he knows it’s what Alexander needs to hear. Magnus feels Alec hold his hand at his neck tighter.

Alec nods, slipping his fingers in between Magnus’s. “Next time, tell me what’s going on.”

“I will,” Magnus says.

They stare at each other, both remembering Magnus’s words to Alec the night Alec had apologized, over a month ago now, both thinking how strong forgiveness makes them feel, both of their hearts finally calming.

After a moment, Alec speaks again, eyes jumping to Magnus’s cheek. “Look I… I don’t think…” He stops, frustrated.  Magnus waits patiently, watches Alec’s mind try to work out how to phrase what he wants to say. “I do trust you, Magnus.  But, what is this from?” He asks, poking at Magnus’s cheek with a weary expression.

“What is it?” Magnus brings a hand up to feel.                

“Lipstick.”

“What—” Suddenly Magnus distinctly recalls a very cold press of lips, courtesy of Camille Belcourt.  He’d forgotten entirely about it. “Oh.”  He looks up at hazel eyes. “Camille.”

“Uh huh.”

“I forgot to wash it off.”

“Not exactly why I’m asking.”

Magnus grins, the room tilting on him again. “Are you jealous?”  Alec doesn’t reply.  He frowns and breathes out his nose, sounding like he’s had enough.

Magnus can’t help but laugh. “Apparently, Camille is incapable of _not_ flirting, even when confronted with bodily harm. And I only went to her manor to retrieve the vial.” Sliding his own hand out from under Alec’s, Magnus moves his fingers back to a round, red mouth. “Alexander, I was too furious to notice.” He traces across Alec’s bottom lip. “I barely felt it.”

“Okay.” Alec sighs. “Sorry I asked.  I just…”

“You’re allowed to ask. I would’ve asked you, too.” Magnus smiles up at him, a shiver running up his arm at the feeling of Alec’s warm mouth at his fingertips. “We haven’t talked about it, but I’m fairly certain we’re exclusive.”

Alexander’s cheeks turn a delightful pink again. “Yeah,” he says. The word falls out of him with a breath, blowing against Magnus’s fingers.

Magnus presses his thumb into the indention of Alec’s bottom lip, watching Alec’s skin move as Magnus drags it down, Alec’s mouth parting. He feels the glamour over his eyes fade away.  It always has a mind of its own around Alec, and with his magic so low Magnus has no hope to control it.

The room turns on its end again, and Magnus’s head feels like it’s swimming.

“You have a gorgeous mouth, Alexander,” he says, dizzy.

\---

Alec’s face goes red. He’s sure his mouth isn’t gorgeous, isn’t any different from any other mouth, that it’s plain and boring.

But his blush reaches his chest, and the firm press of fingers on his lips is too much.

Moving his knees up to bring Magnus closer, Alec bends down and kisses him gently. Their mouths set sideways against each other.  He pushes down into Magnus, slow and longing. It’s not nearly as engrossing as their first, but it’s sweeter, calmer.  Magnus runs a hand through Alec’s hair, stopping at the back of his head. Alec lets him turn his head a fraction.

Magnus kisses up at his lips once, then again and again, pulling away only a breath each time.

“Magnus–” Alec urges between kisses, “sleep.”

“Absolutely not.” He kisses at the corner of Alec’s mouth, then the center, then the other corner.

Alec can’t help smiling into it. He feels his heart thrill harder with each kiss, the warm drag of friction at his mouth making him lightheaded. But he pulls back, shifting slightly, breathing a little strained. “Sleep,” Alec says again, scratching at Magnus’s hair above one ear. “For Raf’s sake.”

“Using the kids is cheating.” Magnus feigns a frown and shuts his eyes, leaning into Alec’s touch.

Alec feels his heart constrict, the domesticity of what Magnus had said overwhelming him for a long moment.

He moves his fingers to the side of Magnus’s face, tracing a line along his jaw he follows with his eyes. He leans down to kiss Magnus, only once more, then pulls away enough to speak.

“For mine, then,” Alec whispers.

 


	22. For Centuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /sweats 
> 
> hey!
> 
> Jaimie wrote parts of the spell, and did some amazing editing. Please thank her. Check her out on tumblr [[here](http://sarcasticlightwood.tumblr.com)].
> 
> I'm still working in China. I'm going home in June, but then I need to find another job. Please be patient. I intend to finish this. :)
> 
> Thank you so so so so much for all the comments! I keep some in a folder to help me stay motivated to write. They mean a lot.
> 
> Enjoy ❤️

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alec wakes up slowly, blinking into the soft lights of Magnus’s home. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, one hand just resting over Magnus’s heart and the other still tangled loosely in his hair.

His head spins for a moment as his senses fight overwhelming exhaustion for equilibrium. As his eyes adjust, Alec realizes he’s lying down across Magnus’ couch; he doesn’t normally move much in his sleep and the unexpected change briefly disorients him.

It occurs to Alec that the cold press of empty air around him means Magnus isn’t here with him.

He sits up in a rush to search as soon as it clicks that Magnus is _missing_ — but no, Magnus is right here. He’s standing beside the couch, pulling a soft blanket up over Alec’s torso.

When Alec’s blinking eyes meet dark ones, Magnus stops.

“You’re awake.”

Alec nods, staring back at him, throat a little dry. “What time is it?” He asks.

“Four-thirty,” Magnus says, lips pulling up into a gentle smile. “You can go back to sleep, if you’d like.”

Alec swings his feet to the floor instead, nearly jumping out of his skin when the shock of cool hardwood registers. His shoes are missing. Bending forward, he sees them neatly tucked under the far end of the couch.  He hadn’t taken them off himself, and that only leaves one other way. It’s sweet, Alec thinks to himself. Magnus’ thoughtfulness still catches him off-guard.

Righting himself on the couch again, Alec takes in the dark shadows under Magnus’ puffy eyes.

“You didn’t sleep for very long,” he says.

It’s a moment before Magnus responds. “Restless, I suppose... Kept dreaming about the spell and what could go wrong. I don’t want to put Rafael at any more risk than we need to.” Magnus stands and busies himself folding the throw blanket that Alec had pushed away earlier. “I figured I may as well put my concerns to better use by doing a bit more research, making sure I know the specifics backwards and forwards. But really, you should go back to sleep, Alexander. This could take some time.”

“You haven’t started the spell already, right?” Alec can see the worktable behind Magnus. It’s littered with more books, equipment, and ingredients than it had when they’d gone to sleep earlier.

“No, not yet,” Magnus says, his tired voice bringing Alec’s gaze back to him. “I need to be sure of the spell. I was just collecting what I’ll need for later, keeping my hands busy.”

Frowning, Alec looks Magnus over. He still looks exhausted, the deep bags under his eyes are uncharacteristically pronounced, his hair disheveled and uncombed, but it’s the unsteady shifting in his shoulders that has Alec reaching out to catch Magnus’ wrist.

“Are you okay?” Alec asks gently. “Is your—” He struggles with finding the right words, moving to hold Magnus’ wrist tighter, fingers sliding firmly along bronze skin. “Is everything back to normal?”

Magnus breaks out into a smile. It looks unbidden, unintentional. Real. “My magic, you mean?”

Alec nods.

“It’s stable enough. For now, at least.”

Alec flattens his gaze at Magnus. It won’t do them any good, won’t do _Rafael_ any good, if Magnus wears himself out completely. It was hard enough convincing him to get some sleep last night.

Magnus only smiles again, wide and genuine. “How about…” Magnus turns his hand over and shifts it until their palms meet, sure and warm.

“There’s a blue box of loose tea leaves in the kitchen. It’s a caffeinated herbal blend mixed with a Fairfolk flower that has the added the advantage of rejuvenating magical energy.”  He runs a thumb over the back of Alec’s hand. “It looks like you could use some, yourself. Would you mind making us each a cup while I get started on the research?”

Alec opens his mouth to protest.  It sounds like Magnus is trying to keep him out of the way.

“I promise not to start without you, Alexander. I can’t, really-- I’ll need your help with the spell,” Magnus says, still running his thumb over the back of Alec’s hand, “It will take energy from both of us to work properly.”

Alec exhales, feeling reassured, but remains quiet.

His silence, apparently, gives the wrong impression. Magnus’s expression quickly changes; his features are kind and open, but entirely forced, as if he were trying to hide his distress. “If you’re uncomfortable with the spell, though, I can call Ragnor. I’m sure he’d be willing to lend his help if I asked.”

“No!” Alec scrambles to his feet.  He nearly trips over the blanket at his feet, but Magnus holds him steady.  “No,” he starts again, clutching Magnus’ hand. The two of them stand close, breathing each other’s air. The weight of the moment hangs on Alec, anchoring him. He doesn't know why Magnus thinks magic makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't know what he'd done to make it seem like that, or what he can do to change it.

“I want to help,” Alec settles on saying. He squeezes Magnus’s hand tighter, trying to steady his heartbeat so he can focus on trying to say out loud what he’s feeling, but staring into those dark eyes makes it simultaneously harder and easier to speak. “It should be us,” he says. “Raf needs the two of us.” Magnus’s eyes don’t waver or look away, though they do widen a bit, causing him to look slightly alarmed _._

Alec loosens his grip and retracts. Maybe that was too much. “Unless you think Ragnor would be better for this.  I mean he'sa Warlock so he’d probably--”

Magnus twists his wrist, returning their held hands to their former strength. “Ragnor wouldn’t do a better job.” Alec’s breath hitches, but it’s not the closeness-- not _only_ the closeness-- that makes it do so. 

“Now, stop distracting me.” Magnus’s smile returns slowly and he squeezes Alec’s hand once before letting go. “Rafael needs you—” he stops himself short and looks at Alec pointedly when he continues, “Rafael needs _us_ to focus.”

Alec tucks his chin to hide the smile that threatens to bloom unbidden at hearing Magnus refer to them as an “us.” He turns to head into the kitchen to do the one thing he can to help at the moment… Make tea.

He fills the kettle and brings it to a boil, jumping back when a blue cloud of mist unfolds over both mugs when he pours it over the tea leaves. He hears a chuckle from the other side of the loft and rolls his eyes.

“Here,” Alec says, coming up behind Magnus where he’s standing at the worktable. He sets the mug beside the large book he’s bent over to keep from interrupting.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Alec nods, stepping to the side. Magnus turns the page in the book, and Alec thinks it’s a good time to ask, “What do you need to do?”

Alec recognizes the way Magnus’s eyebrows raise, how they creep up his forehead the way they always do when he’s explaining something, adding a dramatic flair that Alec has found endearing since the day they met. “It’s a _very_ intricate, archaic spell,” Magnus explains, fingers gliding along lines written in a language Alec can’t identify. “It’s full of ingredients that are exceptionally hard to find, and are, quite frankly, extremely hazardous on their own - never mind when added together.” He looks down at the book with a creased brow.

Alec’s heart plummets. Will they have time to find everything before the Stasis spell wears off? Will Raf be okay?

Magnus bursts into a smirk just a beat later, craning his neck to look back at Alec. “But lucky for us, I happen to be the High Warlock of Brooklyn and already have everything we need right here on hand.”

Alec frowns at him. “Not funny, Magnus.”

Magnus winks — actually _winks_ — and Alec finds himself regretting his taste in men. “Admit it, you find me charming.”

Alec sighs through his nose.

“You’re not denying it,” Magnus says it in a falling melody, the last syllables low and vibrating. He grins and leans back to nudge their shoulders together.

Alec very carefully examines the wall in front of him and licks his lips, trying to fight back a smile. “Don’t you have a spell to cast?”

 

* * *

 

Once he’s read everything he can find and Alec has helped him prepare all the ingredients, Magnus settles in to perform the spell.

He turns to Alec, mouth open, eyes hesitant.

“Alexander, I’ll need to tap into your strength. Normally, holding your hand would suffice, but I need both hands to perform this spell properly,” he explains.

“Oh. Um…” Alec shifts on his feet. What exactly is Magnus asking for? He looks up into Magnus’ eyes again to wait for more instruction.

“Magic-wise, hands are the easiest place for me to absorb energy… But the spinal column is also quite receptive.” Magnus pauses for a moment, considering. “It won’t take very much skin contact for the connection to work, but it has to be steady.” He looks apologetic.

Does he think Alec would be uncomfortable? “Magnus, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do.”

Magnus offers him a sheepish smile back before taking a deep breath.

Alec steps up beside him and takes his own deep breath. He brings his hand up to Magnus’ hip and slips his fingers up under the shirt, hand resting on the base of Magnus’ spine. He hopes the action was as smooth as he tried to be, and not as awkward as he usually is.

“This okay?” he asks Magnus, voice low and just on the edge of unsteady. They’re tucked into each other, fitted together. Alec's mouth is already perfectly positioned in front of Magnus’s ear to whisper. He feels Magnus shift on his feet before replying.

“ _Very._ ”

It’s enough to make Alec blush, but his thoughts are quickly derailed when Magnus begins to chant the spell. His voice is deep, booming and rumbling through unfamiliar phrases. The words themselves mean nothing to Alec, but the control Magnus has over the foreign words brings them to life with a strange sort of intensity.

A dark mist begins to form over the table in front of them, and the pressure in the air grows thicker. There’s a new sound now, a muffled shudder pulsing throughout the entire loft. Alec raises his head in concern - every single piece of glass in the loft is vibrating, windows quivering in their frames. He wants to ask Magnus if this is normal, or if something’s gone wrong, but before he can he’s hit with a surge of magic that practically knocks him off his feet.

The air crackles around them, spitting and sparking, engulfing Alec and Magnus in the dark mist. It’s like a heatwave, but more electric. Like the humidity just before a thunderstorm. His hand is still fused to Magnus’ lower back, drawn in tight, and it tingles.

The vial cracks open in front of them, Raf’s blood seeping into the large wooden bowl. Magnus makes a quick gesture with his hand and the blood blends with the rest of the concoction in the bowl, but then everything inside the bowl abruptly dissolves into nothingness.

Just as suddenly, the mist around them solidifies into smoke - thick, clawing black smoke that buries them in darkness. Alec shivers unintentionally. His eyes are watering, lungs aching with need for fresh oxygen. Still, he hangs on. The only instruction Magnus had given him was to not let go.   _Blood magic is vicious, Alexander, it will try to outlast me_. _But I doubt it can overpower the two of us._ Alec focuses on pressing his palm further into Magnus’ skin, imagining a stream of energy flowing through the tips of his fingers to bolster Magnus’ power.

Connected like this, Alec can feel how powerful the curse is.  It roars inside him, banging against his skull and the walls of his chest, trying to kill him from the inside out. He finds himself gasping, taking in gulps of air when he can manage it. All this and he’s only experiencing a second-hand, diluted version of it. Magnus is fighting it full-on. He shivers because — and Alec had known — but he shivers because Magnus is _powerful_.

Alec had felt it in his arm when Magnus had magicked a rose into his palm. Now he knows that moment had been nothing but a whisper, gentle and warm. He’d felt it when Magnus had portaled them to the cabin — an insistent, earth-shattering surge tinged with worry. Both of those encounters were only a reverberation, an after-echo of Magnus’ spells.

Alec knows Max has experienced Magnus’ magic in another way. He’d once described it with his scrunched up, concentrated face as 'the way Aunt Clary’s hot chocolate tastes, only in my hands.'

This feeling, this experience, is nothing like any of that.

Magnus is strong, Alec has always known that. But in this moment, watching him, _feeling_ it, he understands it in a whole new way. Magnus’s power is like the ocean’s undercurrent; all his strength is buried under his gentleness, tucked away and hidden.  But beneath that placid surface is a roaring ocean of power, peaceful and calm until a storm pulls it into overwhelming swells, cresting into violent and unpredictable bursts.

 _How long?_ Alec wonders. _How long did it take him to become_ this _strong?_ To be able to teleport across the world on a whim, to put people to sleep for days, to summon portals, to create intricate wards, to subdue ancient blood magic?

Magnus has had more than four _lifetimes_ to make himself into the man he is today.

Lifetimes.

There are so many things he doesn’t know about Magnus.  All the people he’s ever known. Magnus has told him about parts of his life, and Alec is aware of some of the less-than-admirable things — that Magnus has been involved in night running and thievery and even murder, but so goes their world. Magnus has told him of scandals in Victorian London, a bit about living in Indonesia, and of past lovers who had cared for and then hurt him. Alec finds himself spiralling in an aimless, pointless jealousy that surprises him in both its existence and its strength.

Magnus has always spoken about his past lovers fondly, and Alec's never minded it. But staring at him now, after hearing him chant in a demonic tongue Alec had been raised to find amoral, thinking about all the years his name had never exited Magnus’s lips — About all the years that _will_ come where Alec isn't with him--

How long does it take to forget someone? How much do you remember about a person after a hundred years without them? Five-hundred? A thousand?

He doesn’t know.

Someday, what Camille had told Rafael will be true. Magnus is already an old, powerful Warlock, strong enough to survive so many more lifetimes. Eventually, inevitably, he _will_ forget them. Drenched in his vibrant magic -- hand anchored against his spine with it -- Alec understands.

“Okay,” Magnus says, the air in the loft quieting suddenly. He lowers his hand from the worktable. “It’s done.”

“How do you feel?” Alec asks, doing his best to keep his voice firm.  It comes out scratchy anyway.

Magnus turns and smiles and Alec’s chest aches.  His mind won’t let go of how impermanent this thing between them is, how strong Magnus is, how small and temporary Alec is next to it all.  

He’s tried to stop himself from worrying about it, tried to stop feeling guilty. For months he’s tried.  Alec knows the only thing that matters is the here and now. He’s thought about all of this long enough and thoroughly enough to come to that conclusion, at least. But the realization of the inevitable has him feeling sick.  Magnus really will let them go, someday, nothing but a memory and one barely remembered.  

“I feel fine,” Magnus says.  The light in his gaze shifts and Alec is worried something in his own expression has given him away, so he looks at the clock.

“Raf will be okay now?” Alec asks, even though he knows what Magnus will say. “It’s… gone?”

Magnus nods. “He only needs time for his blood to cleanse itself.”

“We should go check on him.”

Magnus snaps open a portal before Alec can stop him.

“Magnus.” Alec frowns as he turns away from the portal. “You still need to rest.”

“And when did you become so well-versed in Warlocks, hm?” Magnus smiles teasingly and runs their arms up against each other.

A fraction of his guilt and fear and anger subsides, as if the contact nulls it.

Alec is jealous of every person who will ever get to see Magnus after he’s dead, and all the people who knew Magnus before Alec was alive.  Everyone who saw his smile, heard his laugh; listened to all the stories Alec will miss once he’s died.  The places he can’t follow Magnus to.

He doesn’t want to be like this.  He feels like a child, pouting and digging his heels into the ground indignantly, screaming at the universe to bend its laws just for them. Alec wants to be able to accept things as they are, to accept his place in space and time and enjoy what they _can_ have together, not hate what they can’t.

“I’ve learned a bit, in the past two months,” Alec says, forcing his tone to be light, not letting his anxiety seep through. The last thing he wants is for Magnus to feel guilty. It’s not his fault. Alec _will_ become strong enough to handle it, someday, and they can put it behind them. “Neither of you know how to take care of yourselves.  Which is fine for Max, since he’s five.  But you’re four-hundred,” he says, and he hates how hard it is to stop his voice from snagging on the number. “You should know better.”

“Well.” Magnus smiles. “I’ll just have to keep you around, then.”

Alec knows too he should be happy Magnus had said something that like that.

But for the moment, it only makes him cold.

 

* * *

 

Rafael is asleep in his bed when Magnus steps through the portal with Alec just behind him.  The little blueberry is lying beside his brother, also passed out. Both of their breaths come out in even, peaceful huffs that calm Magnus considerably.

“Can I pick him up?” Alec asks, “Or will it ruin the spell?”

Magnus shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He watches Alec gather limp limbs into his arms and bring Rafael into him, holding him tight.  He has one arm under Raf and the other wrapped around his back. Rafael looks lifeless lying over his dad, but Magnus can feel his energy and see him breathing.

“ _Lo siento_ ,” Alec whispers into his temple.  He presses a long kiss there, then on Rafael’s forehead, smoothing dark hair back.  “ _Lo siento_.” Magnus has never heard Alec speak Spanish.  He wonders if he realizes he’s doing it, or even that he’s speaking at all. “ _Estás seguro_ ,” Alec breathes into Rafael’s cheek, clutching at him and rocking him slowly in his arms, “ _Estás seguro_ , _estás seguro_.” His voice is watery and as soft as the light of the moon through the window, as it passes over Rafael’s dark cheeks. “ _Mi pequeño Rafa, lo siento mucho_.”

Magnus only stands there, watching.  Alec isn’t affectionate with Rafael around other people, and it makes the scene in front of him more intimate, knowing both of their predilections towards privacy. These moments are likely very special to them, whether Rafael is asleep or not.  Magnus might feel like a father, but _Alexander_ is Rafael’s father. He needs to give them space.

“Magnus,” Alec says, voice just resting on the crest of breathless, “ _ven aquí_ —” He cuts himself short, perhaps thinking Magnus doesn’t understand him.

But Magnus had — he just can’t believe he’d heard it.  

_Come here._

Before Magnus can even debate whether or not he should—can think it’s too much and that falling in love with them is too unfamiliar to him, that it’s reviving some core part of him that had long-ago rotted, that he can’t possibly _have_ the three of them, as a family, like he wants them—Alexander is walking over.

Alec steps into Magnus’s space, close enough that Magnus can reach Rafael. Alec shifts his son in his arms, letting his chin rest on Alec’s shoulder, but his face slides until one of his cheeks is smooshed into Alec’s shoulder. Instinctively, Magnus lifts his hand, setting it in the dark hair on the side of Rafael’s head. The coarse locks between his fingers are starting to feel familiar.

Magnus couldn’t imagine how he’d cope, if Rafael weren’t here now. He’s relieved to the point of feeling faint.

“Thank you,” Alexander whispers, breaking Magnus from his thoughts. “If anything happened to him, I don’t–” He stops, his voice thick and heavy with words that won’t be said. Alec steps in closer, Rafael held between them.

“Something did happen to him.” Magnus runs his fingers around the back of Rafael’s ear, watching his serene face, his tiny eyelids closed, delicate eyelashes sweeping across his cheeks. “And need I remind you, Alec, it was my fault.”

“No. You saved his life,” Alec says, and Magnus can feel the crack in his words all the way to the bottom of his stomach. “He would’ve died.” Alec takes a slow breath. “Or worse.” Magnus keeps his eyes on Rafael, and knows Alexander is doing the same.

“But Camille—”

“You two have a history. So what? It’s not your fault she went after a _kid_.” The hand at Rafael’s back curls in, holding him tight. “And if we’re going by that logic, then it’s my fault Allison is still out for Max.”

Magnus looks away from Rafael and over at Alec. “That is _not_ your fault. You don’t control what she does.”

Alec squints one eye at him.

Magnus laughs, quietly but it’s bright and sudden in the dark bedroom. The expression had been just so _Alexander_.

“Alright.” Magnus smiles and slides a hand along Alec’s jaw and cheek. He feels the familiar press of his skin, the stubble along his jaw, the smoothness nearer to his eyes. Magnus watches intently as Alec’s sarcastic expression dissolves into one of wonder. “I’ll stop blaming myself,” Magnus says, gliding the tips of his fingers over Alec’s ear, “but only if you stop blaming yourself as well.” He can feel it, in the place where Alec’s jaw meets his neck, when Alec swallows.

“Magnus…”

“This is not your fault.”

Alec doesn’t reply. He looks annoyed for a moment, and then steps back. He turns to make his way back to the bed, leaving Magnus without the warmth of either of them. He lies Rafael down and pulls the comforter back over him, tucking him in with a kiss.

Then he walks back over, his expression steeled.

“We need to figure out what to do next,” Alec says.

Magnus feels a little whiplashed at the change in conversation and mood. He’s sure they should talk more. But their current situation takes president, and Alec doesn’t take well to being forced.

Magnus folds his arms, tapping at his bicep. “We need to set up a meeting with Raphael Santiago. He can help us-” he twirls his fingers in the air, searching for a phrase more delicate than the residual anger in his heart can offer - “deal with Camille.” He shares a knowing look with Alec.  “And your lawyer…”

“Lydia.”

Magnus nods. “We’ll need to meet with her as well.” He unfolds his arms. “But… My magic is nearly depleted once more,” he hadn’t fully recovered it in the first place, “And you hardly slept at all.”

Alexander looks unhappy about it, but he nods. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Magnus agrees. “But I can put up more wards tonight, if you like.”

Alec frowns. “The wards are fine. _You_ ,” he says, staring pointedly at Magnus, “are going to rest.”

Magnus hadn’t been trying to argue, or even tease Alexander. He’d honestly only meant that if Alec wanted extra protection for the boys, he’d set it up.  “Impossible to please,” he says, smile forming without intent.

“How did that even start?” Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Well, if you’re so _sure_ ,” Magnus lets his smile spike up into a wild grin, “then tell me, Alexander. How can I please you?”

He watches Alexander’s face flash red, his cheeks and part of his neck filling with colour.  

Alec takes Magnus’s hand suddenly and is pulling him out of Rafael’s bedroom. Magnus lets himself be pulled, a smile spreading over his face, wondering what Alexander is about to surprise him with now.

Once they’re in the corridor and Rafael’s door is firmly shut, Magnus finds his back being set soundly against a wall. Larger hands slide from his shoulders down his forearms. Alec looks back and forth between his eyes, clearly nervous but with that determined look he gets when he wants something more than he’s afraid of going after it.

“Come now,” Magnus says, watching the way Alexander’s eyes shine as they continue darting back and forth between his own, stuck on Magnus despite his embarrassment. “Where’s my brave Shadowhunter?”

Alec’s gaze flickers around Magnus’s face for a few beats longer, the lines of his neck going taut as he swallows.

Then he leans down, slowly, and kisses Magnus quietly.

It’s warm and sweet. Magnus feels his eyelids drop and a soft helpless sigh fall from his parting lips as Alec slides their mouths together. All the worry and tension from the past several hours drain from his body. Max and Rafael are both safe, and Alexander is right here.

“Ah,” he says once Alec has moved back an inch, eyes opening slowly, “There he is.”

Alec laughs, just a small puff of air that beats against Magnus’s lips. He looks at Magnus again, and there’s an easiness to his expression and the way he’s still holding Magnus’s arms.

There’s silence then, the too-quiet kind that follows a vivid conversation.  Magnus finds himself unsure how to fill it. He doesn’t know if he should fill it. Alexander just stares at him, looking like he wants to say something but not saying anything.

“Well, I suppose I’d better head home,” Magnus says, shifting to get an arm free. Regardless of what he’d said after the wedding, Alec hadn’t suggested anything other than checking on Rafael together. Magnus isn’t about it push him, or them, into anything.

“What?”

“It’s late, and you’ve all been through more than enough for one evening.”

Just before he can wave a hand to open a portal, however, Alec catches his arm.  His eyes are glassed over when he speaks.

“Stay,” he says as if it had always been the plan.

Magnus tilts his chin as his brain processes the word.

“For the night.” Alec’s cheeks turn a darker shade of red, but he keeps talking, “Stay the night.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he speaks, the definitive corners of his jaw and throat stealing Magnus’s attention. Distracted, Magnus doesn’t reply, and Alec begins to flounder. “If you want to. I know we haven’t even been on a full date yet, but I don’t care.”

Magnus’s heart sinks. While he himself has no need for convention he knows Alexander is traditional. He’s the type to want things to happen in a certain order. Circumstances and time have robbed them of that.

“We don’t-” Alec cuts himself off the way he often does, voice dying in uncertainty, “I’m not asking… you know.” He sets his hand back on Magnus’s arm.  “I just don’t want you to go.”  

Warmth spreads through to Magnus’s chest and every other part of him – his toes to his head to the tips of his fingers – until his heart is pounding. It’s a little worrying. Alec hadn’t said or done much to provoke such a reaction.

“Sorry,” Alec says, removing a hand from Magnus to scratch awkwardly at his neck. He’s done it often enough that Magnus directly associates the act with him, even when Rafael does it. _Especially_ when Rafael does it.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Magnus reaches over to take the hand on his arm, threading fingers together almost without meaning to, the movement becoming gradually innate. “And I’d love to, of course.”

Alec smiles.

“Okay,” he says, and again, “Okay.” Alec grips his hand harder and starts pulling, yawning as he speaks. “Come on, then.”

When they reach the bedroom, Alec shuffles around in his bureau to find them each something to wear, and Magnus teases him about the simple décor.  Only a few — somewhat distracted — minutes pass between getting dressed for bed and when they finally turn the lights out to sleep, both of them exhausted beyond reason or coherent thought.

But despite the exhaustion and the stress that’s been eating him alive over Raf, Magnus hasn’t felt happier minutes in centuries. His eyes, now better adjusted to the dark of the room, make out a familiar shape.  

“You kept the roses,” Magnus says, caught staring. He hadn’t been sure what Alec had done with them.

Alexander doesn’t meet his eyes, but there’s a smile forcing its way on his lips. “I kept the roses.”

“Why?”

The smile widens, but just for a moment. Alec forces it away. He turns his back to Magnus, pulling the bed covers open. “Why do you think?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Magnus grins at his back.

He hears Alec laugh, tired and happy. He knows he’s smiling fully this time.

“You know why,” Alec says. Magnus is about to ask if he’s really alright with this, with sharing a bed, when Alec speaks again. “Stop trying to get me to talk, just get in.”

Magnus isn’t about to argue. He’s exhausted as well and Alexander is inviting him into his bed. The sheets are warm, the bed soft, and Magnus feels his eyes start to close as soon as he lies down.

\---

A heart-hammering nervousness pounds in Alec’s chest as Magnus slips into the bed. Unfortunately, it only grows louder when he stops moving, and Alec is left with the question of what to do with the space between them. Is he allowed reach out? _Should_ he? Would it imply he wants more than this? Alec does — of course he does — but neither of them are in any shape to enjoy it. Especially not Magnus, who must be worn to the bone from using so much magic.

The dark room around them is still.

Alec doesn’t think Magnus will misread it. Holding his breath, he shifts himself over toward the center of the bed, taking Magnus’s hand to pull him in. Magnus smiles as he’s tugged across the mattress.

“Kissing without dates, cuddling without sex.” Magnus’s lips brush against his hair as he mumbles, his torso lining up along Alec’s side. There’s nothing between them now but warmth. Alec sighs and lets himself sink into it. “Maybe you’re not so traditional after all.”

In that moment Alec knows that despite all his fears, despite all the power and time that has and will separate them, it’s worth it. This is worth it, to have Magnus here, even if it is only for a blink in a warlock’s long life.

“Now look who’s impossible to please,” Alec whispers.

Magnus laughs, the puffs of breaths brushing through Alec’s hair. He sounds genuinely happy, but surprised, like no one’s made him laugh in bed in a long time.

It’s the last thing Alec hears before he drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Alec hears after spending the night in bed with Magnus is his five-year-old at ten in the morning.

“Magnus!”  

Seemingly entirely unfazed by finding Magnus in his dad’s bedroom, Max scurries into the room and clamours up the side of the bed. He can never quite make it on his own so Alec reaches an arm down to pull him up, still groggy from the sudden wake-up call.

He’s rewarded for his help by Max ignoring him completely in favour of crawling on top of Magnus’s stomach.

“Raf is asleep and he _won’t_ wake up,” he says, tone implying that Magnus had better do something about it, preferably _right now_.

“He’s alright, Max,” Alec says while Magnus yawns, waking up. “He’s resting.”

Max looks at Alec and then at Magnus, squinting as if discerning whether or not this is a situation where he’s being lied to because the adults around him think it’s better to hide the truth. Alec wonders if his younger son is really starting to be able to sense that sort of thing, or if it’s just his own guilt spilling over. He _isn’t_ lying to Max now, but feels like he still hasn’t been very honest in general since Allison started showing up.

“He’ll be awake in a few days,” Magnus says, swiping some stray blue hair from Max’s eyes. “I put him under a spell. I told you about it last night, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Max blinks as the memory comes back. He’s been through a lot, and the shock of not being able to wake up his brother probably didn’t help.

“How are you feeling, little blueberry?” Magnus asks, yawning again and pulling himself up to rest his back against the headboard.

“Fine.” He squares his eyes on Magnus. “Magnus,” Max starts as if about to announce a great secret. Alec can’t stop the smile that comes as Magnus widens his eyes to show he’s listening just as seriously. “Dad doesn’t have your coffee, but we have blueberry tea and banana bread with blueberries in it _and_ real blueberries.”

Magnus pretends to think it over, pressing his lips together. When Max’s face drops to uncertainty Magnus smiles. “Who could say no to blueberries?”

Max laughs and flops off the bed, feet thudding out of the room in a run. He comes back after he realizes Alec isn’t following him. “Dad, c’mon!”

Alec shakes his head. He slips his legs over the bed and onto the floor. “The shower’s in there, if- if you want one.” He squeezes Magnus’s hand as he gets off the bed, heart speeding up as reality catches up with him. He hadn’t given himself a chance to think very hard about it last night -- but Magnus is in his _bed_. He lets himself look at his sturdy body lying snug under the covers for all of half a second before he looks away. “We’ll go make breakfast.”

“Alright.”

Alec heads out the door with Max, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“ _Dad_ ,” Max say in an attempted-hush as they both walk into the hall, “I think Magnus likes you.”

Alec manages to hold in his laugh, though he hears Magnus snort behind them. “Yeah?” He smiles down at Max. “You sure?”

Max gives him two very serious nods. “ _Defiantly_.”

Alec opens his mouth to correct him, but figures Magnus is just as ‘defiant’ as he is ‘definite’ about everything he does, so he lets it go.

Alec stops to check on Raf on their way to the kitchen. He’s lying in the same position he’d been in last night, his breathing deep, but finally not heavy with pain. Max grips at Alec’s leg and they both stare for a moment before heading back down the hall.

The kitchen is buzzing with conversation as they approach; Alec can hear Izzy and Luke arguing over other muffled voices before they’ve reached the kitchen. Clary, Simon, and Alec’s father are there, all leaning against their own slabs of countertop, drinking cups of coffee. Most surprising, though, is that Lydia is there as well. All six heads turn to look at Alec the second he and Max enter the room.

“Hey,” Izzy says, and hands him a coffee. Alec takes it, dazed. “Clary and I called Lydia,” she explains.

As soon as the surprise wears off, Alec nods. “Good.” He looks at Lydia. “We need your help.”  
  
She chuckles and nods at him. “I guessed as much when Izzy dragged me here this morning. I’m here for whatever you need. And your mother is back in Idris trying to get things moving, but—”

“Max,” Luke cuts in, “Why don’t we get started on breakfast? You can show me how you peel apples with magic again.”

Max lets out a delighted cheer and races over to Luke, and they head to the other side of the kitchen, out of earshot.

“Mom’s trying to _help_?” Alec asks, leaning against a counter and looking at Izzy. “Really?”

“Rafael’s her grandson,” his father says.

Alec rolls his eyes. “And Max?”

“She’s not a monster, Alec.”

Alec rolls his eyes again, this time longer and with enough indignation for his eyelids to completely consume his pupils. He knows she's not, but he's so tired of her back-and-forth, taking care of Max politically, fighting in Idris so Alec could keep Max, but never showing an ounce of actual love for him. He doesn’t look at his father again, but instead over at Max who is levitating apples behind Luke’s back.

“Anyway,” Izzy says, purposely interrupting, “We’ve been talking all morning. Alec, Lydia thinks...”

“Wait, I’ll be right back.” Alec sets his coffee down. Magnus needs to be here. He turns on his heels and exits the room, never minding the silence behind him.

He heads down the hall again to his bedroom. If he’d known everyone would already be waiting in the kitchen, he would’ve brought Magnus right away or at least waited for him. Though he probably should’ve guessed they’d all be eager to get started.  Izzy would want to deal with Allison and Camille as quickly as Alec.

“Magnus?”  Alec knocks as he opens his bedroom door.  Magnus is there, freshly showered and already dressed, standing with his back to Alec. Alec feels his heart kick and wonders if it will ever stop doing that.

“You really kept the roses the whole time?” Alec leans to the side to see what Magnus is looking at.

“Ah.” His pulse jumps quicker. “Well…” Alec’s fingers absently scratch the back of his head. His mind’s not ready for the sudden leap between topics. The lurch leaves his heart behind and twists his tongue until it feels like  nothing will come out right.

“They did end up in the trash for a few days,” he finally admits.

Magnus’s expression turns wry and humorous, but Alec knows he’s covering both curiosity and some sort of pain. “Oh?”

There are so many things Alec knows he should say.  He could explain himself, or he could point out that the roses aren’t in the trash anymore, or he could tell Magnus that even when they were he hadn’t had it in him to throw the bag out or put anything else in the trash. He could say he’d only done it for his kids, and not because of his own feelings.

“Lydia’s here,” is what he finally says into the heavy silence. “She wants to talk about Allison.”

The sadness in Magnus’s expression fades. Alec expects it to be replaced by concentration or worry, or even surprise.

But Magnus is _smiling_.

Alec follows him out of the room, feeling like somehow, he’s said the right thing anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Lydia crosses her legs and looks at Alec, the movement familiar in a way that makes him a little sick. Not from any personal reasons, of course. Lydia’s great. But they’ve shared far too many  conversations about whether Max would get to stay with Alec or be sent to live with Allison. “Right now, the best course of action is to speak with Raphael Santiago.”

“We were thinking the same thing,” Alec says.

Lydia nods.  “He might know something about her involvement.” Magnus’s eyes subtly turn dark, but Lydia is as sharp as ever. She shakes her head at him. “Sorry. I only mean he’s the only one that might know where she was, who she’s been with, or what her motivation might be. I don’t expect he’s knowingly involved in any of this.”

“The Clave sanctioned this interview?” Alec’s father asks.

Lydia shakes her head again. “The Clave doesn’t need to know about this, not yet.” She looks at Alec. “Your mother is explaining the situation to them and trying to get them to act on Allison, but they refuse to move forward on Camille. Unless we have absolute proof of her involvement, they won’t do anything.”

Alec folds his arms.  “Of course they won’t. So, we just go talk to Raphael?”

Lydia nods. “If he agrees to help us gather information on Camille’s involvement, I can work directly with him.” She moves blond hair behind her ear. “I figured he’d be more open to helping if you two ask him, rather than some lawyer from Idris showing up on his doorstep.”

“A fair assumption,” Magnus says.

“Okay.”  Alec turns to face Magnus. Magnus turns to meet him halfway. “Now alright with you? Or do you want to eat something first?”

“We can go now,” Magnus says, sounding just as eager as Alec.

Isabelle speaks up. “You _both_ need to eat,” she says. “Grab something to go. Let us know what Raphael says.”

 

* * *

 

Alec can count the number of times he’s been to Raphael Santiago’s lair on his fingers, but not because he doesn’t like Raphael. Despite everything with Valentine, and having signed the treaty, the New York Vampires still don’t approve of having the head of the Institute in their home. Alec has never felt the need to push it, he’s just glad they’re not killing each other anymore.

Raphael, however, has visited the Institute pretty often. The Vampires were the first group of Downworlders to sign the treaty, having helped draft it. Alec has believed for a long time that Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations are key to keeping the peace in their world. Whenever Raphael needed help, the Institute offered it.

Inevitably this resulted in Raphael meeting Alec’s older son, which Alec was admittedly absolutely uncomfortable with at first. Old prejudices are hard to get rid of, but he didn’t stop it from happening. He didn’t want Raf to grow up learning what Alec had been taught about Downworlders.

During one of the early meetings about the treaty, Raf had said something to Alec in Spanish, which Raphael had overheard. He’d squatted down and asked the at-the-time five-year-old, “¿De donde eres?” _Where are you from?_

‘Dad says it’s a place called Buenos Aires.’

‘Oh, a little porteño.’ Raphael had smiled in that gradual way of his. ‘Welcome to New York.’

‘You’re a vampire.’

Raphael opened his mouth wide, elongating his fangs for effect. Raf hadn’t had much of a reaction. He’d just stared, silent and curious.

‘What’s your name, little porteño?’

‘Rafael.’ He’d looked at Alec, and then back at Raphael. ‘I’m here because my parents are dead.’ It was then that Alec realized he probably should’ve given Raphael a heads up about the details of the adoption.

But Raphael only smiled again, soft and sadly.

‘Who knew a Vampire and a Shadowhunter could have so much in common?’

They were fast friends after that. Raphael’s Spanish was better than Alec’s at the time, so it gave Raf another person to talk to in his native tongue instead of only his Aunt Izzy. And surprisingly, Raphael understood better than anyone how alone Raf felt.

Which explains why Raphael Santiago isn’t too happy when Alec and Magnus show up in his den and tell him what had happened with Camille and Allison.

“Camille cursed the porteño?!” Raphael’s voice has a growl to it. “ _La diabla pequeña_ … _Dios_ , how did she do it?”

“She’s been collaborating with a warlock,” Magnus says.

“Blood magic?” Raphael looks like he might be sick. “I take it since neither of you are panicking like headless chickens, the little one is fine now?” he asks, looking between them.

“We’ve lifted the curse.” Magnus smiles gently at Raphael. He’d explained to Alec previously how well  he knows the head of the New York vampires. “But we need your help, Raphael. We’re here to ask you if you know anything about her involvement.”

“Or where she is now,” Alec adds.

Raphael looks between them both again. “You’re going to turn her over to the Clave.”

“Well… Maybe.” That’s the plan in the end, Alec guesses. “For now, we’re just trying to gather information.”

Magnus continues, “At the very least, we want to keep eyes on her. And if you happen to be able to confirm she was in or near the fairy realm the night Isabelle and Clary were married, feel free to let one of us know.”

Raphael’s eyes shift in a way Alec’s only ever seen a vampire’s. “And you’re okay with that, amigo?”

First Alec thinks — Why wouldn’t he be? But then he realizes Raphael isn’t asking _him_. He’s asking Magnus.

Magnus doesn’t answer. He looks a little pale, and stays absolutely still.

Alec is hit with a sickness, slow and crawling. He must be the most selfish, stupid man in the world not to have noticed. Not to have thought for a second about what he’s asking Magnus to do.

Magnus doesn’t respond. He just stares at Raphael with an expression Alec can’t read.

Alec looks over to Raphael and watches his eyebrows tick up.

Magnus sighs quietly, face coming to rest in a frown.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Alec feels a bit more sick.

“She attacked a _child_ , Raphael,” Magnus says, finally, but there is no finality to the sound of his voice.

It isn’t quite an answer to the question, either, and Alec feels the lack of it in his gut. Somehow he’d expected, hoped, Magnus would answer Raphael outright. The idea that at least some part of him is still attached to Camille makes him angry and jealous. Even if he ignored her involvement in this situation with his son, she’d had Magnus for _decades_ and she’ll still be around after Alec's dead. It’s _his_ turn.

But he knows how stupid — not to mention dangerous — that line of reasoning is. There aren’t any ‘turns.’ And of course Magnus would still be somehow concerned for someone he’d been with for a large part of his life. He’s not _heartless_. Not at all.

It’s impossible for his heart not to feel jealous, though, no matter what his head understands.

“Alright,” Raphael is saying, looking Magnus up and down. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

They head back to the Institute and tell everyone that Raphael had agreed to help. Alec does his best not to show on his face the sharpness he feels whenever Magnus says Camille’s name. He does his best not to feel anything about it in the first place, unsure of when his maturity level had regressed to the same level as a teenager's.

It’s something worse than jealousy, but Alec doesn’t want to give a word for it. He doesn’t want it at all.

“Raphael’s going to help?” Izzy asks him, looking hopeful.

“Yeah,” Alec says.

Lydia nods. “Good. I’ll contact him personally in the next few days to check in.” She looks relieved. Alec wonders what Lydia would’ve done — would’ve felt like she had to do — if Raphael had refused. “We’ll start building a case, then we can go to the Clave.”

“This is all so-” Magnus’s nose scrunches up, “- _legal_.”

Lydia snorts. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Magnus doesn’t, Alec thinks. He hadn’t been there to watch Alec unable to fight Allison to get Max back, all those years she’d been his legal mother. If he’d fought her, if he’d hurt her, he’d have lost any chance at any kind of custody. Alec’d had to let her take Max back, knowing what she’d do to him. He’d had to do it to _save_ Max in the long run.

That’s what Izzy had said to him, anyway, ‘in the long run.’

“You okay?” Magnus asks once the room has cleared, his brows furrowed.

Alec thinks about how really, objectively, he isn’t a good father. A _good_ father would’ve torn the world apart to keep his son safe. He wouldn’t care that it wasn’t legal. He wouldn’t care that it might not work, ‘in the long run.’

“Alec.”

He thinks about Camille and then immediately tries not to. He thinks about his own meaningless sixty years placed next her eternity. He thinks that an eternity might be enough time to be there for Max, to become a good parent for him.

Alec tries not to think about that, either.

He tries to focus on the lines stretching out over Magnus’s face, how they’ve become familiar, how he feels like he belongs right there next to him.

Alec nods. “Uh. I’m just wondering...” He looks over at Max, who is busy blooming pink flowers down an old bookshelf. “Do you think we should rune them?”

Magnus doesn’t look surprised, which means he’d been thinking about it too.

“They’re both too young,” Alec continues, “But I want… I want them safe.”

“I think we’d better.” Magnus is looking at Max, when Alec looks over at him. His eyes are dark, glamoured, and his brow dipped low.

“Okay,” Alec says, even though it isn’t.

After that, Magnus goes home. Alec understands - he probably has a long line of angry, ignored clients to deal with. He probably has to teach tomorrow. He has a life. He has things, a lot of things, separate from Alec.

He understands.

 


End file.
